More Than Together
by seilleanmor
Summary: A thirty day fanfiction challenge. Each chapter is based on a prompt word. Loosely connected, but not chronological. Each is exactly one thousand words. SPOILERS for all US aired episodes.
1. beginning

**This one's for Shannon, my joy on the worst days. Tha gaol agam ort, darling.**

* * *

After our swim we lay on our shadows naked,

more than together, and saw high in the blue

two chalk lines kiss and slowly disappear.

**- **_**The Malham Bird**_**, Dannie Abse**

* * *

**beginning**

* * *

"Hey."

Kate slides her palms up either side of Castle's spine, her thumbs out to clatter over every notch of his vertebrae. Her fingers curl around the rise of his shoulders and she arches forward onto tiptoe, her chest flush with his back.

He half-turns to look at her, a soft and somnolent smile that opens his whole face to her. So much ancient, beautiful love in his eyes that she leans further in to him, dusts her mouth over his.

"You changed."

A laugh sparks up out of her at that, lifting her chin and curling in wisps around his jaw. "You thoroughly enjoyed undressing me."

"Mm, yeah." Castle turns to lean against the balustrade, lacing his fingers at her back and then sliding lower, tugging her in to have their hips clash. "You looked so beautiful today."

He cradles her cheek in his palm, the rise of her cheekbone nudging at his heartline. Kate fists her hands in the material over his hips and tugs upwards, leaning in to press her nose to the bare skin of his sternum.

"We finally made it to Bora Bora, huh?" She grins into his skin, his hand coming up to cradle the nape of her neck.

Rick laughs at that, turning her around to face the water with him. The slow, threading lap of the water underneath them tugs at her, a tide of warm and beautiful love she could sink into. "Only took us two years."

"It's worth the wait."

Castle hums, almost nuzzling at her cheek. The solid heat of his body behind hers acts as a buffer against the curling breeze and Kate leans back against him, lacing her fingers with his and bringing the tangled mess of their knuckles around to rest at her stomach.

"You like it?"

"I'll let you know once I've seen more than the bedroom." Kate laughs, leaning forward to watch the rippling waves below. It's so clear, a plunge like glass to the ocean floor, and she longs to slide underneath the surface and dive down to where it's cool, bask there.

With him.

She wants to share everything with him, all the time, and maybe that's foolish, maybe it'll wear off, but she can't bring herself to care.

"We could swim tomorrow, after breakfast."

His voice tears through her, sitting low in her stomach like pooling heat, like need. Kate squeezes the knot of their hands and shifts, her hips slipping into the cradle of his. "Let's not make plans, hmm? Just take it as it comes."

Castle laughs at that, a shift like seismic activity all through him that desecrates her. "Too easy."

"You calling me easy, Mr Castle?"

She steps away from him, sinking onto the corner seat and hugging a cushion to her chest, her toes trailing into the plunge pool. Castle groans, planting a knee next to her hip and crowding her, his mouth hot and insistent against hers.

Kate lifts a hand to clutch at his shoulder, a whimper caught in the back of her throat at the sweep of his tongue, the shock of teeth making her whole body shudder.

He pulls back, settling at her side and tracing the surface of their pool with his toe, flicking the water up to spatter over them both. She laughs, turning in to him and resting her cheek at the hard edge of his bicep.

"No. Not easy. The most challenging, worthwhile thing I've ever done."

"Thing you've _done_?" Kate smirks, catching the soft skin inside of his arm between her teeth and sucking, relishing the bite of the salt that clings to him.

He opens his mouth as if he's going to argue with her and she surges, sliding her tongue inside and stroking over the roof of his mouth, grinning into their kiss as he grasps for purchase at her hips. Kate rises onto her knees and shifts to bracket his thighs, sinking down into his lap and groaning.

Castle gets his hands at the hem of her shirt and tugs upward, and she falls forward on a gasp, her mouth landing somewhere south of his ear. "Wait, wait, Castle. Not out here. They'll see us."

"No one's gonna see us. All the other bungalows are empty." He grits out, palming her ass and bringing her tighter against him, his mouth dusting over hers.

So much reverence there, even as his hips buck underneath her.

"You don't _know_ that."

Castle falters, and Kate shifts back far enough that she can see him properly. He's still, his body too careful below hers, and she has to cup his cheeks to have him meet her eyes.

"Actually, I do. I booked up all the surrounding bungalows."

Kate lets out a slow breath through her teeth; even now his wealth feels like drowning. "Why would you do that?"

"You're _loud_, Mrs Castle."

It cracks her open, her face flooding with light that she sees reflected back from him, the both of them full up with it. "You gonna make me scream, Rick?"

She rolls her hips against his, lazy and slow and teasing, and his pupils bleed out into his iris, the blue laced with ink like the birth of a storm.

"Well, yeah. It _is_ our honeymoon, after all."

Kate brushes her mouth to his for that, hovering there to taste him. Just a shared breath, not even really touching, but it feels so good.

After everything they've fought through, all the hurdles and hurt and the battles they faced, it's amazing to have him here with her, breathing forever into her mouth. His hands come up to cradle her, palms pressed to the wings of her shoulder blades, and his forehead meets hers.

"I love you, Kate Castle."

He pulls back again, that same hesitant, beautiful love blooming on his face as when he'd waited at the end of the aisle for her, as when he'd held her in his arms and they'd danced.

Her husband.

* * *

**Tumblr: **katiehoughton

**Twitter: **seilleanmor


	2. accusation

**accusation**

* * *

"Yo, Beckett. You okay?"

Esposito leans back against the door, arms folded and a lift to his mouth that could be amusement. Yeah. . .she really hopes it's amusement.

Kate turns to face him, bracing both hands against the counter top. Holding herself up. The espresso machine bites at her spine, the knock of metal against her vertebrae helping to clear her head. "Yeah, fine. Why?"

Javi moves over to the couch, the cushions groaning under his weight, and he beckons for her to join him. She does, leaning against the arm and drawing her knees up to her chest. Impenetrable.

"You don't look so good."

There's so much concern on his face, and it doesn't sit right. Espo doesn't do this. He has never been the one to acknowledge when she's running herself into the ground. He's the one who follows her blindly, has her back no matter how reckless she's being.

Beckett lifts a shoulder in a half-shrug, finds herself suddenly crumbling. A bone-deep exhaustion crawls through her, the thick spread of inertia making her want to just curl up.

"Kate. You're exhausted. You've skipped lunch the past three days. What's going on?"

A part of her, a huge part, wants to brush him off and say it's nothing. But it's Esposito. Her friend. He's on her team, and she owes it to him to try and explain.

"It's. . .it's January, Espo. And it's been fifteen years." Kate grits her teeth to cage in the tremble of her voice, feeling it all the way into her temples.

"Oh. Right. So you're not-"

He cuts himself off, turning away from her and gazing out of the window. Past the curve of his chin, Kate sees Detective Ryan watching them both, stretching up out of his chair to see through the slats in the blinds.

Somehow, Beckett finds the strength to raise an eyebrow at him, nudging at his thigh with her foot. "Not what?"

"Not. . .pregnant."

Heat swells in her cheeks and she dips her head, letting the soft curl of her hair act as a barricade. "Jeez, Espo. No, I'm not _pregnant_. Why would you even think that?"

"Well. You look pale. You skipped lunch yesterday and the day before and you haven't been drinking coffee either."

Seriously? She'd expect this of Ryan, maybe. Definitely of Castle. But since when does Esposito pay this much attention?

"_Espo_. I'm just tired, okay. And stressed. And that makes me lose my appetite. I'm _not _pregnant." But even as she says it, she's counting back the days in her head.

Yeah. Crap. She was late. And she'd written it off as stress. Maybe. . .maybe it was. Just stress. And the weight's been dropping off her lately, weight she really can't afford to lose.

The reed of her bones presses through her skin and in the shower she has to face the other way. And Castle-

Castle hasn't seen her naked in a while.

Things have been. . .difficult. Ever since his proposal. They're still together. She still loves him. And she knows he loves her too.

But when Paula arranged a two month book tour across the country, he barely even hesitated before agreeing. They spent the night together before he left, and a spattering of phone calls have bridged the gap ever since.

He's back next week, and she has missed him. She has. Especially lately.

Going home to an empty apartment, getting takeout, reading until she falls asleep, all of it feels too much like how she used to be before Castle. It's like she hasn't made any progress whatsoever, and that's not _true_.

Now, she wants to cook. She wants to curl up on the couch with her head pillowed on his thigh and watch a movie and let the soothing circle of his thumb at her waist help her forget. They've been doing better at communication. It's all been better, but also so much more complicated.

It's been hesitant, between them. She's apologetic, a lot of the time, so much guilt sitting low in her stomach at the memory of his eyes that day. How he shuttered her off.

And he's been so careful not to make her regret giving up the job in DC. The pair of them on tenterhooks.

"Right. Sorry. Not pregnant. Things are okay with Castle, right?"

Oh jeez. "Espo. Everything's fine with Castle, and I'm not pregnant. I'm just tired. I really can't do this now."

Javier curls his hand around her knee and squeezes as he stands, and the brusque contact sends a wave of raw need through her like a tide. The bones of her washed up and scattered like debris.

She misses Castle. The way his hands feel against her skin, penitent or supplicating or reverent. The cove of his arms. Everything.

It's stupid to let his proposal get to them. All it means is that someday, he wants to marry her. And she does want to marry him, too. She does.

So if she's late. If she's. . .pregnant. They can make it work.

* * *

"I missed you." He beams at her, lifting her off of her feet in the middle of the terminal and crashing his mouth against hers.

Kate curls her fingers inside his collar and feels the flutter of his pulse, smiling so wide their kiss falls apart around the stumbling block of her teeth. "I missed you too."

"You okay?" Castle sets her down, cradling her face in both hands and drinking her in. He looks exhausted, but underneath the slack of his jaw there's hope, blossoming and beautiful.

"Better now you're here." She says, finds she means it. One true thing past all the confusion.

"Your mom's anniversary. _Kate_."

He takes her hand and brings it up to his chest, the ragged tattoo of his heart beneath her palm like an echo of her own grief.

"It's okay. I'm okay. You're here."

Kate laces their fingers and smiles.

"Let's go home."


	3. restless

**restless**

* * *

He's going to trip.

The fusty heat rising up from the canyons of New York curls inside the open window and turns the linoleum to molasses, his shoes sticking with every desperate step. The soles cling to the floor, a web of tar between him and the ground, and he stumbles.

Kate's on her feet next to him before he even manages to tether himself, her palm cradling his elbow and the slender line of her body pressed close.

"You okay?"

Castle lifts a trembling hand to his temple to catch the bead of sweat that breaks from his hairline, free falling to the precipice of his jaw. "Why is there no damn air conditioning?"

"There is in the waiting room, buddy." Kate offers him a smile, knowing better than to lace her fingers through his.

Not right now. He doesn't want to be tethered, not even to his wife. He needs to _move_.

"That's too far away. What if she needs me?"

He turns to resume his sentry and Kate falls in to step beside him, nudging at his elbow with her own the way they always have done. It's ridiculous, of course he knows that, but he can't sit still. And Beckett keeps shooting him these concerned glances like she thinks he's going to fall apart on her.

Which he might. He really, really might.

"Rick, come on. Let's go get some air."

"Kate, please." He manages to choke out, turning so fast that she crashes into him. She sets both hands at his shoulders and squeezes, hard enough that the shard of pain has his knees buckling.

"Castle. Eli will call us if anything develops, okay? Let's get something to drink."

Right. Yes. His daughter's husband promised to let them know the second anything changed. Even so, letting Kate guide him into the elevator opens a chasm in his chest.

* * *

Outside, the whole world trips by like ticker tape, too fast for him to catch more than blurred colors, the shimmering gray canvas of the city splashed with the ochre and lime and rose of midsummer. Castle fumbles for Kate's hand, clutching at her fingers until she sighs and lets her palm kiss his.

There's a park across the street and they find some respite under the gentle shade of an elm, the dappled sunlight caressing the lines of Kate's face. Rick leans back against the bench, curling his fingers around the slats on either side of his hips. Kate hooks her foot around his ankle and the contact is a jolt that eases him, somehow.

Everything will be alright. Kate's here.

"Do you want to call the kids? Will that help?" She's saying, her phone already out of her pocket and offered up to him.

He can't even reply, can't do anything past lean in and dust his mouth across hers. It's too hot for more, too hot for his hands on her skin, but he thinks she'll understand anyway. How very grateful he is.

"No. Not until we have news. You think they're okay?"

Kate raises an eyebrow at him, her mouth stitched into a seam. And still, even now after almost fifteen years, it has him shifting uncomfortably. "You don't trust my dad with our children, Castle?"

"Of course I do." Rick kisses her again, tastes the rich and beautiful love she's full with. Love for their family.

His and Kate's.

He can't help but laugh at the absurdity of it, though. Here they are, waiting for the birth of their first grandchild, and just last night his youngest daughter was curled up on his chest reading Dr Seuss with him.

"Do you think it's odd? Jack and Bea only being a little bit older than their niece or nephew."

Kate bites her lip and regards him carefully. He loves this about her. She never brushes him off with a half-formed answer. Always takes the time to really consider it, because she knows that it _matters_ to him. And so it matters to her, too. "I think that maybe, on the outside it seems a little strange. I mean, Bea's only gonna be four years older than the baby. But this is our family, Rick. It works for us this way."

"Yeah, I know. It's just weird. My baby girl is only just four and I'm gonna be a grandfather. And you, Kate. A grandmother at forty one."

She blushes, her face breaking into a soft smile that hints at the tributaries nestled at the corners of her eyes. The lines of wear that say to him, every time, this is the life she's lived.

Here is the evidence of their love.

"Kate." He whispers, and her smile falters. "Kate, I don't know how to do this. Be a grandfather."

Kate slips her hand inside his jacket pocket, his shoulder nestled between her breasts. "Rick, come on. You remember when Jack was born? And you said to me that you didn't know how to be a father to a son."

"Yeah."

Holding his newborn son in his arms, Kate's hand cradled around the soft cap of downy hair, he had panicked. He's never had a father-son relationship before, and the tiny human being in his arms needed him to get it right.

Still does.

"He adores you, Castle. He sees the world as this wonderful, amazing place full of adventure and intrigue, and you do that for him. Jack couldn't ask for a better father than you. And Alexis and Bea too. You can do this."

* * *

The first time Rick gets to hold his grandson, Kate swipes at the tears tripping down his cheeks and laughs, leaning in to kiss him. The baby's tiny, perfect fingers curl around his own and he cracks open on a grin, glancing up to see his daughter crying too. Jim shows up with Jack and Bea and the two of them charge at him, peering down at their nephew.

It's odd, and unusual, but it works for them.


	4. snowfall

**snowfall**

* * *

Castle presses the button to start recording and crouches down in the snow, the forest at his back watching as his son comes towards him.

Jackson isn't exactly. . .steady on his feet. But he's giggling, even as he staggers toward his father. And behind their boy, framing the top of the shot, there's a shard of Kate's smile.

"Hey, my man. Look at you go." Castle says, earning a delighted giggle from his son.

Kate follows behind as Jack picks his way down the path, stumbling a little. The soft blanket of white muffles the whole world, so Rick feels that it could just be them. His wife, and his son, and himself.

There must be a rock concealed under the snow, because Jack falls to his knees, catching himself on his hands and staring up at his father. There's something like shock plastered on his face, but before Castle can even brace for tears their son is laughing, loud and clear and perfect.

Kate gets both hands under Jack's arms, lifting him and setting him back on upright. She kisses the end of his nose, grinning when he shrieks and squirms in her arms.

"Hey baby. You okay?"

Jack cradles his mother's face in both hands, and Castle winces as a smear of jam he must have missed cleaning off of him winds up plastered to Kate's cheek like war paint. "Momma. I fell."

"Yeah. But you're my brave man, huh?" Kate nuzzles him, pressing her nose into the warmth trapped at their son's neck and blowing a raspberry there.

Castle ends the recording and slips his phone into his pocket, suddenly full up with the need to be a part of it. His beautiful family.

"Jack, buddy, you want to build a snowman?" He says, enveloping them both in his arms. Kate slips a gloved hand into his pants pocket, squeezing just enough that he grunts and bites at her ear in retaliation, their son caught between their bodies.

Jack kicks out to get down and Castle huffs, taking him from Kate and setting him down. "Hey, no kicking. Remember what we said about being gentle with Momma."

"Rick, he's fine. It's fine." She's rolling her eyes at him, but she's got a hand pressed to her stomach in protection.

Even bundled in four layers of clothes, the soft curve of her, the thickening at her waist has his heart pounding hard. Some stupid, primitive pride, like he's staked a claim.

Just because she's carrying his child. For the second time.

"Better to be careful, Kate." He says, standing up from their son to kiss his wife. The cold seems trapped beneath both their skins and he can't help but sigh into the heat of her mouth.

"You gonna build a snowman with our son, Castle?"

Rick glances down at Jack, flushed with so much pride. Their gorgeous, inquisitive little boy. He smiles up at his father, the edge of his hat slipping down over his eyes so he huffs and shoves at it. "Snowman, Daddy?"

"Sure buddy. Let's build a snowman." Castle scoops Jack up and drapes him over his shoulder, keeping a tight hold of his son's ankles and letting his body bounce against Rick's own. The pure, magical joy of Jack's laughter has both of them grinning too, sharing a glance rich with so much pride.

They have a really, really wonderful kid.

"Daddy, down." Jack manages, breathless and flushed when Castle sets him back on his feet. He reaches up to take Kate's hand, offering his mother a shy grin. "Momma, you can help me?"

"Yeah baby, I'll help."

* * *

Kate watches from the window of the cabin, waiting for the milk to heat up so she can make them hot chocolate. Jack helped her root out a scarf and hat for their snowman, and now Castle's got their son bundled up in the knitwear, half his upper body swathed in the scarf.

She can hear him giggling from inside and she finds herself having to wipe at her eyes, quell the flood before it can really break free. It just gets to her.

The whole time she was pregnant with Jackson, she'd been terrified that she'd be bad for him. Her job is full of so much darkness and she'd worried that she'd end up bringing it home, tainting their baby's childhood with death. But Jack's fine. More than. He's such a happy little boy, so much life bubbling up out of him.

Even so, the crying feels ridiculous.

That's probably mostly on Baby Girl, though. Kate presses a hand to the swell of her stomach and smiles, feels the fluttering against her palm. Proof of life.

The door clatters open and her boys come into the kitchen, Jack barrelling straight into her arms with his coat still on. She laughs and unzips him, passing the miniature duffel to Castle to hang in the hall closet.

Kate scatters kisses over her son's cheeks to warm him up, finds that powdered smell of brand-new little person still sticking to him. "You have fun with Daddy, Jack?"

"We builded a snow cop, Momma. He can catch bad guys."

"You did?" Kate laughs, surprise fluttering behind her ribcage. Feather light and intoxicating, the way Castle's always done this for her.

"We did." Rick confirms, leaning in to dust his mouth over hers and then turning back to fix their hot chocolate.

Kate moves over to the sliding doors with Jack on her hip, forehead pressed to the glass to get a better look at the figure cast in snow.

There are some vague, blurred shapes at the rounded hip of their snow-cop and Kate grins, glancing over her shoulder at her husband. "Those handcuffs?"

"Yep. And a gun."

She raises an eyebrow and he shrugs, a reflection of the snow-capped forest in his eyes. "We had a talk about gun safety, didn't we Jack?"

"He only uses his gun to catch dragons, Momma. Just like you."


	5. haze

**haze**

* * *

Kate barrels down the corridor, thrusting her badge into the face of every damn member of staff that tries to stop her. She reaches a crossroads and the edges of her vision start crawling in on her like paralytic black, sweet-tasting panic. Down the corridor, there's a clattering, hurried footsteps, and then-

"Momma."

Oh, thank God.

Bea barrels into Kate, hands fisting in the back of her button down and her head tucked under her mother's chin. "_Momma_."

Kate cups a hand at the curve of her daughter's skull, her curls spilling like ink over Kate's knuckles. Her mouth dusts along the creamy line of Bea's scalp, the soft weight of her baby in her arms like a balm to the fissures in her lungs so she can draw a deep breath again, battle back some of the terror.

"Bea, baby, what happened?"

Beatrice leans back, fast-flooding eyes lined with charcoal that blink up at Kate. So much like Rick that it chokes her, has her clutching at her daughter's shoulders.

"We were crossing the intersection and a truck ran the stoplight. He just _smashed_ into us, Mom. Into Dad and Jack's side."

The fist in Kate's gut tugs upward, twisting hard, and she has to swallow it back. She _will not_ get sick in the corridor in front of her teenage daughter.

Just. . .she can see it so clearly. The kids arguing over whose iPod gets plugged into the speaker jack (her son always says _it's named after me_) and Castle laughing at them both, telling them a story about when they were younger.

Bea has these massive, clear eyes and when she was younger, hair thick and curling, the ragged edge of her bangs getting in her eyes. She was always on her brother's heels; all of her father's natural charm bubbling out of her. Everyone adored her.

Especially Jack.

Rick does his best to remind them both of how close they were when they were tiny, and it does help to dispel their fighting. Mostly.

Bea is trembling against her, bones clattering under the papery surface of her skin, and Kate holds her close, like she can stem the tremors from the very epicentre if she just holds her daughter tight enough.

"Do you know where they are? Where's your brother?"

Bea sucks in a fortifying breath, her eyes shuttering closed. When they reopen, shards of steel lace the rich, forever sky. Her daughter has so much of Kate's strength, that same detachment in play to protect her.

"Jack broke his arm, Mom. He went to get an X-Ray. And they took Dad in a different ambulance from me and Jack. They won't tell me where he is because I'm a minor." Beatrice grits her teeth and Kate can't help the half-curve of her mouth, the soft breath of a sigh that escapes.

God help whichever nurse had to tell Beckett's daughter _no_.

"Okay. Let's find Jack, and then the three of us can hunt your dad down. You're okay, Bea?" Kate circles her thumb over her baby's knuckles, cupping her cheek in the cradle of her palm.

"Yeah, fine. Just bruised."

Kate's blood feels heavy in her veins, thick with gratitude. It's okay. Her kids are okay. Even so, her knees turn liquid if she lets herself even start to think about Castle.

* * *

Too bright.

He keeps

slipping. In and out and in and out. Can't manage to tune himself, find the right setting. Feels like his vision is leaking, the picture running so all he gets is shapes and colors that don't sit right, alien palette.

Voice. . .nearby? Saccharine. _Mr Castle, please sit down_.

Is he standing?

He has to- the kids. Where's the kids. Have to make sure they're safe. But from _what_.

Both palms up to cover his eyes, pressing hard enough to snap everything back where it's supposed to be. A jolt that turns around his forgetting, brings it back.

Okay. Okay. Need to call Kate. Where's his phone.

Where's his _wife_.

She's supposed to be here. Some disembodied voice earlier promised they'd call her. His palms are bloodied, the grass too sharp, a wide and wheeling sky, voices behind _Beckett's down Beckett's_-

No. Wrong. Not Kate's blood. His own. A hot line from his temple curdling in the collar of his shirt. Why is he bleeding? Where is Bea where is Jack where is Kate.

The truck. The truck. Hold onto it. Build everything else around it. They took the kids in a different ambulance. They're not hurt bad.

Someone will have called Kate. She'll come.

* * *

The young nurse manning the station must read the panic in Kate's eyes because she's telling them where Castle is before Beckett even pulls out her badge.

She never even has to drop her title in the woman's lap. Captain Beckett, now, like that's going to get her to see her husband any faster.

He's half-hidden behind a curtain, the rise of his knees sticking out, and Bea whimpers and runs for him. And Kate hates herself for it, but she can't even give them a moment to themselves.

She needs him. Now.

His face looks. . .bad. Swollen and tender and mottled shades of red and purple and blue. But he's smiling so wide it hardly seems to matter.

"Kate. You're here. Where's Jack?"

"Getting put in plaster. He'll come up and see you when he's done." Kate sits, her hip bumping next to her husband and their daughter on his other side.

"I feel gooood." Rick slurs, tilting into her _hard_ so she has to put both hands up to catch him. "Good drugs, Kate."

"Yeah? That's good." Kate says, finds her eyes filling with pathetic, stupid tears. He's fine, just concussed.

Lucky, really. They've all been so lucky.

"Hey Kate? Thanks for marrying me."

Bea laughs at that and Castle turns a proud smile to their daughter, if a little confused.

"It was twenty years ago, Rick. But you're welcome."


	6. flame

**flame**

* * *

Kate opens the door and stops in her tracks, so absolutely frozen that Castle would laugh if he weren't so terrified. Her gaze snaps to him where he sits, spine carefully held away from the back of the armchair.

"What's this?" She sighs, exhaustion threaded through her words. He can see her crashing, her lithe frame swaying as she shuts down piece by piece.

It's been a long day. He got home hours ago, and she said she'd be right behind him. And now here she is. He can make it work.

"I made dinner. You want to change first?" He stands, coming to hold her close in the middle of his living room.

Her nose presses at his neck, her mouth open to taste him, and he grits his teeth to hold on.

"Castle. I'm so tired. I can't do. . .this. Right now."

Rick leans back from her, cupping her face in his hands. So beautiful. The bones of her all in confluence to make this gorgeous, divine creature. "No pressure, Kate. Just dinner. Let me have this."

Maybe if he doesn't explicitly say it, doesn't come right out and ask her to let him take care of her, she won't argue.

He kisses her, of course. He can taste the crisp bite of winter under her skin, sharp and new and fresh. Mm, Kate. She opens her mouth to him, lets him sweep his tongue inside, and then she's smiling into it.

"I can't believe you lit all these candles."

"It's your birthday."

She rolls her eyes at him, stepping back with a last touch of her mouth to his. "In five months."

"Close enough." He offers to her retreating form, grinning at the slow undulation of her hips. Those slacks. . .he doesn't quite know whether he wants her to wear them all the time or take them off right now.

The kitchen timer shrills, startling him hard enough that he knocks into the side table on his way to the oven. He hears her laugh from their bedroom and _really_-

How can she possibly know what a fool of himself he's making?

As she comes back to him, he watches the shift of her patella through the gossamer knees of her leggings, her toes spilling over the lines in the kitchen tiles. And then up, her shirt loose and fluid, draped over the birdcage of her skeleton.

She sits at the counter as he plates up, the recipe book still open in front of her. It falls open to his favorite page, the spine wanting it as much as he does.

There, on their fourth morning, he made her eggs and she scrawled all over the recipe. Effigies of them in pale toast frames, an egg bearing the mask of his face.

"You want to eat here?" Castle glances over the top of her head to his dining table, marked out in candles like a congregation of souls.

She lifts her chin to him, planes of darkness under her cheekbones and eyes like the inside of a November midnight. "You want to eat at the table."

"I don't mind. Wherever you're comfortable."

"Table's good." She takes her plate from him and goes to sit, her neck a column of marble made fissured by the wisps of her hair that escape. Castle pays penitence there, dusting his mouth over the creamy skin as he moves to sit with her.

"You finish all the paperwork?" He cups his hand over hers on the table, smoothing circles with his thumb over the roadmap of veins in her wrist.

"Yeah. Tired."

One side of her mouth lifts for him, and it aches. He never could have imagined (never let himself dare to try) what it would be like to have her come home vulnerable. And to have her trying so hard because she can tell he has something planned has him full and ripe with love for her.

"I can run you a bath after dinner, if you'd like." Castle takes a mouthful, tries to seem nonchalant. Doesn't matter if she says no, doesn't matter if the fearsome riptide of her independence tugs at her.

She lives here, she loves him. He can deal with it.

"On one condition." She waits for him to meet her eyes and then she grins, soft and slow-spreading and wonderful. "You join me."

"I'd love to. But first, I have a question for you."

Kate sets her knife and fork down at the side of the plate and sits back, the graceful bones of her fingers folded carefully in her lap. "Shoot."

"So. You know I love you. And living with you these past ten months has been so amazing." He hesitates, reading the tick in her jaw as apprehension, but he thinks amusement as well.

"It really has." She nods, taking a sip of wine and watching him carefully over the rim of the glass.

The work of her throat, the stretch and dip of her jugular, entrances him for a moment. And then he finds it's not difficult anymore.

"The last time I asked you this, I was angry and desperate and it was all wrong. I missed the most important parts."

And now she knows exactly what he's doing and she's grinning, grinning so wide, and her eyes are glassy, and this is what he missed the last time.

"I'm so in love with you. I want a life with you. Third time's the charm, you said to me once. I want that. So, Katherine Houghton Beckett, will you do me the honor of marrying me?"

She laughs at him, her eyebrow arching even as a tear rolls down her cheek. "Not on one knee this time?"

He stands and she laughs and then he kneels down in front of her and takes her hand in both of his, scattering kisses across her knuckles. "Better?"

"Much."

She looks down at him, her jaw still soft with tears, and smiles.

"Yes."

* * *

**My thanks to The Midnight Club, for everything, but especially your unwavering support these past couple days. Love you.**


	7. formal

**formal**

* * *

"So, uh. Kate?" Castle peers around the doorframe, still only wearing his underwear, and Kate sighs.

He's been changing his mind all day long, three possible suits to choose from and apparently none of them are right, none of them will do. He wants to look _good_, he says. _Kate, this is important_.

There's some truth to that. It's a big deal for him, and he's terrified. And he doesn't even bother to try and hide it from her. He lets her see all of it.

"What is it, Castle?"

He comes further into the bathroom and the sight of her must serve as a distraction because he grins, the anxiety unlacing itself from the lines of his face as his palms fall to span her sides. "Firstly, you look gorgeous."

"Thanks." Kate grins at him in the mirror, finishing up the last touches of her makeup. She _does_ look good, she knows that.

She wanted to try for him. Make him proud to have her as his muse. And that's stupid, and a huge part of her is pissed about it, but she can't quite seem to help herself.

"And second. Are you going to wear the ring tonight?"

Oh. It's been a point of contention in her mind all day, tripping through over and over and over. Is she going to attend the premiere as his muse, as Nikki. Or is she going to go as his fiancée.

The ring sits in her jewellery box, next to her mother's. It's been a week and a half since he asked, and no one knows yet.

After he slid it onto her finger, there'd been a moment of absolutely tranquillity, something amniotic settling over them both when he kissed her. And then he'd laughed and taken it back off and said something about not being ready to share yet.

Seems that he's ready now.

"I don't know, Castle. If our friends and family find out through the papers they'll kill us." She smirks, but there's a thread of concern low in her stomach. They'd be hurt, to find out that way.

"Kate, love, everyone we care about is going to be there except your father."

Huh. Yeah. . .that's true, actually. Castle got everyone tickets. "If I wear it, we'll be bombarded with questions from the press."

Castle slides his hands around to lace them at her stomach, the rest of him following suit so he ends up flush with her body. The naked heat of him leaching out.

Oh jeez. Did she really just think that?

Damn movie getting in her head.

His mouth wanders a pilgrimage from her ear to her temple to her jaw, fleeting in his worship. It's so good, the way he touches her now. Seems like a full body consumption even with just the brush of their thighs on the couch.

"I think we'll actually get fewer questions this way. Yes, we're getting married. No, we haven't set a date. Yes, we're very excited. Simple, really." His laugh tears through her, low and visceral, sparking raw need.

"I'll let you do all the talking."

She turns in the cage of his arms, letting the counter support most of her weight so he ends up caught between her knees, grinning down at her. He leans in to kiss her mouth, fingers flitting over the stretch of her skin at her spine left bare by the dress.

"Kate, you're the inspiration. You're my muse. They're going to want to hear what you have to say." He seems apologetic, his forehead buoyant against hers and his hands reverent.

"I know. I can handle it."

He laughs, stepping back from her so their knees clash. "I know you can. So, this is our formal announcement?"

"Alright. Yeah. But what about my dad?"

* * *

Jim is settled for the night in his armchair, a book in his lap and a cup of tea on the table next to him, marking rings against the wood. And then there's a knock at the door and he's up, heart kicking against his ribs.

No one ever drops by on him unannounced.

He opens the door slowly, half expecting to be met with the somber faces of uniformed officers, telling him they're sorry for his loss. Please God, not Katie.

Instead, his daughter stands at the threshold, already coming in to wrap her arms around him with Rick right behind her. Once Katie lets him go Jim shakes Rick's hand, shooting her a look full up with amusement.

"You two going somewhere?"

"Yeah Dad, the Nikki Heat premiere." Katie grins, settling herself on the couch so the material of her dress stretches taught over her thighs.

A little revealing, he thinks. But she's brimming with confidence, and Rick seems even more in awe of her than usual, so he can let it slide.

"Right, so what are you doing here?"

Rick laughs, moving to sit down with Katie, his fingers threading through hers. He rests the tangled knot of their hands at his thigh, his torso listing into her. "We're making a formal kind of. . .announcement, tonight. But we wanted to tell you first."

"I didn't want for you to find out through the press, Dad." Katie says, gesturing for him to sit.

And now ideas are formulating, fuelled by the light in his daughter's eyes. Jim sinks into the armchair opposite them and folds his arms, waiting them out.

And amazingly, it's Katie that speaks. "About a year ago, Castle asked me to marry him and I told him _not yet_. And then a week ago he asked again, and I said yes."

_Oh_. Wow.

His daughter beams, stretching her hand out towards him so he can see the ring. How did he manage not to notice that before? It's beautiful, clear cut and magnificent. Just like Katie.

Jim stands to envelop his daughter in another hug, finding her ear amongst the torrent of gossamer curls.

"Your mom would be so proud."


	8. companion

**companion**

* * *

Castle wakes to a knee in the ribs, knocking the breath out of him even as he's still half on an island someplace with Kate, bathing in the sunlight with the flood of her scent for company.

One eye opens, the dark lines of his eyelashes breaking the world into fragments. Over him, Bea giggles and plants both hands on his cheeks, using his face for balance as she clambers onto his chest.

A glance to the side shows that Kate is up already. Probably making breakfast with Jack. He can't spare more than a moment to think about it, his youngest daughter giddy where she sits on his stomach.

Bea lifts onto her knees and Rick grunts, holds on to her shoulders to try and relieve some of her weight from his vital organs. She drops back down and lifts again, drops and lifts faster and faster until she's bouncing on his abdomen.

That's quite enough of that for this early in the morning. Castle bands his arm around his daughter's ribs and knocks her flat, her chin pillowed against him. She peers through the inky mass of her curls at him, her eyes the forever blue of midsummer.

"Daddy," she laughs, so much of her mother in it that it feels like arrhythmia, a full-body consumption. How much he loves them. His family.

Castle presses a kiss to her forehead, catching traces of that soft baby smell laced into her hair. "Hi Beanie."

"Daddy, you're a bouncy castle."

Oh, his smart, beautiful girl. "Yeah baby, I guess I am. Did you have good dreams?"

"I was a knight, like them that Jacky's got." She's so matter of fact about it. Of course she's a knight; of course she was a dragon the night before.

There's no tampering the ferocity of Beatrice Castle.

"Did you protect the kingdom?" Rick turns to the side and settles his daughter against the mattress, brushing the pads of his fingers against the creases in her neck just to draw out that delighted laughter.

"Yep. With Momma. She helped me."

He doesn't doubt it.

"You wanna get up, Beanie Baby? We have a big day ahead of us." Castle scoops both arms under his daughter and climbs out of bed, his knee protesting. Not even pain, not really. Just. . .awareness.

He turns and tosses Bea back to the mattress, facing away from her so she can climb onto his back. As long as she's light enough, he'll do this every damn day if he gets to hear the toll of her giggles.

In the kitchen, Kate is at the counter making breakfast; Jack balanced on the high stool to help her.

"Morning." Castle leans in to kiss his wife, Bea trying to throw herself off of his back to join her brother at the island.

Kate scoops their daughter up and settles her next to Jack, kissing their baby girl good morning. "You sleep well, Bea?"

Beatrice turns a grin up to her mother, her feet coming up to press against Kate's bare thighs. "Me and you was knights, Momma. We saved all everyone."

"Oh we did? That's great, baby." Kate combs her fingers through Bea's hair, twisting random strands to piece together the curls.

"Can I help with breakfast?" Castle sets his hand at the dip of Kate's spine, her shirt still a little sleep-damp.

She had a rough night last night, kept waking and clutching at him and then saying _sorry, go back to sleep_.

He stayed awake for hours, keeping watch.

She turns to look at him, her palm cupping the back of Jack's skull. He's still got those loose curls that grew in when he was a toddler, angelic almost. "No, it's all ready. Jack helped me, didn't you buddy?"

"Yes Daddy, I buttered toasts." Jackson's face opens up with pride and Castle presses his fingertips together, offers them turned up to his son to let him feed the birds.

"Good job, my man." Castle sits at the counter, drawing Kate in to join him.

The kids are humming with excitement and Kate keeps shooting him these glances, but he just wants to enjoy this right here first.

And then, their day.

* * *

"Really, guys? That's the one?"

Kate folds her arms and bites back a grin. All three of them are lined up, faces pressed to the mesh fencing. Castle's got a hand in each of his, both kids clinging tight to their father.

Inside the pen, a furry little thing comes ever nearer. Huge ears that seem more fox than puppy, fur the color of caramel, darker in places like it couldn't quite decide.

Which, she supposes, it couldn't. A crossbreed that didn't turn out as pretty as his siblings, the woman who works for the shelter is telling her.

Not that it matters. The rest of her family are in love. Seems like this is their dog.

"I think he likes you." The woman – Hannah – says, watching as the dog comes right up to the fence and nudges his nose against it, almost touching the span of Bea's palm.

Her daughter turns away to glance at Kate, her eyes bright with hope. "Momma. We call him Snicket? Like them books that my name is from."

"We can't take him home today, baby. We have to fill out forms and things first."

Castle lets the kids go and Jack grabs for his sister's hand, tugging her closer to look at their dog again.

Damn it. Not _theirs_ yet. She can't let them get their hopes up.

"That doesn't mean we can't name him, though. This is the one." Castle seems defiant, but he takes her hand and squeezes.

Hannah touches Kate's elbow, smiling at them both. "If you want to come with me Mrs Castle, we can make a start on the paperwork. I'll have another volunteer let Mr Castle and the kids into the pen with Snicket."

Oh jeez, okay. Yeah. They're doing this.

Here's their dog.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry for the delay on this one, the site was being extremely uncooperative yesterday.**


	9. move

**move**

* * *

Halfway.

She's halfway there.

Kate sits cross-legged in the bed, the sheets billowing out around her. A lake of silk she can luxuriate in. The cap on the bottle of cocoa butter sticks a little and she catches her nail, bending it back hard enough to make her hiss through her teeth.

She squeezes some of the lotion out, rubbing it between her palms to warm it and then resting her hands against her middle. Her tank top is tucked up underneath her breasts to expose the swell of her stomach, her skin smooth and pale.

It still surprises her, every time she catches sight of her reflection. That's their baby. Their son.

Castle had wanted to know. So he could plan, buy all these outfits and make sure the nursery is perfect. And she hadn't minded. She sort of likes _knowing_. Likes being able to think of the baby as their little boy.

The cocoa butter glides on easily, soaking through and protecting her from stretch marks. So far. She's not vain, not when it comes to this. She'll happily bear the marks as proof of how she kept her son safe for forty weeks. But if there's something she can do to prevent it, she might as well try.

A part of her does worry. That once she delivers their boy she'll be a leaking, exhausted mess, and Castle won't-

Well. . .that Castle won't react the way he usually does when he sees her naked.

Stupid. She knows that. But it's still there, nestled at the base of her spine and crawling up the ladder of her vertebrae to choke her every time he starts to touch her and then pulls back.

Kate spans her hand over her stomach, feels the fluttering of the baby's movement inside. And then a push against her palm that knocks the breath right out of her, a grin already cracking wide.

"Castle," she calls out. "Rick, come here."

He appears around the door, the set of his shoulders heavy as he hurries towards her. "What is it? Is something wrong?"

"No, nothing's wrong. Come here." Kate stretches out a hand to him, using the knot of their fingers to reel him in to the bed.

He kneels in front of her, pressing a tender kiss to her mouth and then sitting back on his feet, hesitant.

"What's going on?"

"Here. Feel." Kate wraps her fingers around his wrist, feels the thud of his pulse against her heartline as she draws his hand in.

He lets her, until he sees what she's trying to do and then he's faltering, his fingers curling into a fist. "Kate-"

"Castle? What's the matter?"

She swallows back the hurt, the thick and cloying weight of fear in her gut. He wants this baby. He does. She's seen how excited he gets over all the paraphernalia, watched him pore over the book of names he picked up the day after she told him.

So why won't he touch her?

"It's nothing."

She raises an eyebrow, waits him out. By know he's conceded to the fact that she's always going to find out whatever it is he's trying to hide, so all it takes is a look from her to get him to spill.

"When Meredith was pregnant with Alexis, she never let me touch her. The entire time. She'd shove me away if I so much as held her hand. Let alone try to touch her stomach."

He lifts a shoulder in a half-shrug, his eyes fixed firmly on the sheets, and her heart pounds against her ribs. Oh, Castle.

Sometimes it hurts, that he's done all of this before. But apparently, he hasn't. Not really. She wants to share every moment with him, wants him here for all of it.

Kate lifts onto her knees and shifts towards him, wrapping both arms around his shoulders to draw him in to her chest. She cradles him there, smiling into his hair as his hands fall to rest at her spine.

"Castle, I'm not Meredith. I want you to share this with me. I want you to be here, holding my hand all the way through."

He nods, sitting back and arching his neck to kiss her deep. And then he sets his palm against her stomach, breathing his gasp into her mouth at the soft dusting of movement they can both feel now.

"Is that-"

"Our son." She beams at him, her eyes filling. Ridiculous.

She's just so very happy.

"_Our son_." He echoes, his voice rich and reverent. In awe of the life they created.

Kate sits back against the headboard, her husband coming in to rest against her side, his palm still warm against her abdomen. "So, I've been thinking about his name. I want it to _mean_ something, you know?"

"Yeah. Me too." He nudges his smile into her cheek, kissing her carefully, but with the burn of need and love she's so missed. "I actually had some ideas."

She hums into the crease of his neck, pressing her tongue there to taste musk and night and him. "Yeah?"

"Jackson. After my dad. I know that's most likely not even his real name. But I want our son to have some sort of connection to his heritage."

The tension ripples all along his side and Kate turns over, the swell of her stomach resting at the plane of his. "I like it. It's a good name. We could call him Jack for short."

"Jack. Yeah. Are we gonna give him a middle name?"

Kate sucks in a breath, lets it curl in wisps right down inside before she speaks. "I want it to be Roy. For Montgomery, and for Royce."

Castle touches his mouth to her forehead, his palm coming up to cradle the curve of her skull. The rising fortress of his body is a comfort she didn't know she was missing until he came back to her.

"Jackson Roy Castle. It's perfect."


	10. silver

**This one's for my lovely Amy. Happy birthday darling, I hope it's everything you hope for. Love you.**

* * *

**silver**

* * *

Castle has been suspiciously sullen, these past couple days.

It's starting to sort of freak her out, actually. Usually of the two of them, her husband is the one with the jokes and the stupid faces, drawing laughter up out of everyone they stumble across.

But not recently.

Everything is fine with the kids, she thinks. She does feel bad that she goes to work every day and leaves him with the lion's share of the parenting, getting their kids up and dressed and to school and then picking them up again, fixing snacks and helping with homework and making up games.

And then Kate comes through the door in time for dinner, gets to help with bathtime and curl up in the big bed with the soft warmth of their bodies and read with them. Castle does the hard part, and she knows that.

He's never seemed to mind. In fact, he says he's so proud of her, proud of her job. How she keeps the city safe for their family.

So it's not that. And she doesn't think it's about her, either. When she presses her mouth to his after the kids are in bed, lingering awhile just to taste the musk of the day on him, he always holds her close, parts his lips to let her inside.

She just wants to _know_. If it's something she can help with, help him through, she wants to. She's supposed to be that person for him. She's his wife, for goodness sake.

Kate gives herself a slow and careful glance in the mirror, the thickening at her hips mostly disguised by her sleep shorts. Hmm. She's not as lean as she once was, not after two kids.

Not that it matters. Castle still thinks she's sexy, can't ever manage to keep his hands off of her for long.

She moves back through to their bedroom, finds Rick leaning back against the headboard and staring into nothing. Damn. That's enough.

No more moping.

Kate climbs into bed and straddles his thighs, cupping his cheeks in her palms to have him meet her eyes. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I'm fine." He manages a smile for her, but it doesn't bring those lines to the corners of his eyes, tributaries she could sink into.

She leans in to kiss him, one hand slipping down to trace the shell of his ear. "I don't believe you. Something's wrong."

"Kate-"

"Is it. . .did I do something?" She says, sitting back to watch his face carefully. He goes slack with surprise, breath stuttering in his lungs. Good. Not her, then.

Castle curls his fingers around her shoulders and hauls her against his chest, mouth at her temple again and again in Morse code.

Not an SOS. Hopefully.

"Not you, Kate. Never you."

"Then _what_?" She grits out, a wash of despair sweeping through her.

He opens his mouth against her cheek and she waits him out, letting him work through it in his head first. Slender fingers slide under his shirt and Kate smoothes over the skin of his abdomen, tries to comfort as best she can.

"I'm going grey." He murmurs, and Kate has to bite down hard on her lip not to laugh at him.

"Excuse me?"

He shrugs, jostling her skull where she's pillowed against him. "I've found a couple grey hairs in my time, but there's no avoiding it anymore. I'm _old_."

"Oh Castle, baby." The endearment slips out in spite of herself and Kate flushes, sitting up to look at him. "You're not old."

"I _am_." He moans, screwing his eyes closed against her.

"So what if you are?" She raises an eyebrow at him. What, exactly, is the problem? He's a grandfather, for God's sake. A couple of grey hairs aren't exactly amiss.

He settles his hands at her hips, his thumbs dipping into the shadows of her hipbones. "You're so young."

"I'm not that young." Kate laughs, letting the lines of wear entrench themselves around her eyes and mouth.

"But I've got nine years on you, Beckett." He growls, devastation washing through him.

Beautiful, ridiculous man.

"Oh come on, like that's ever mattered to us. It's not like you can't keep up with me." Kate shifts forward in his lap, rocks her hips against his.

"But I'm only going to get older and older. And someday I'll be sitting catatonic in a nursing home and you'll be coming to spoon-feed me baby food once a week."

Kate kisses him, slow and thorough, tries to have him taste how ludicrous even the suggestion of that is. "Never going to happen. I'll take care of you until I can't manage, and then the both of us will move into assisted living _together_."

"And race down the hall in our wheelchairs?" He grins, and Kate laces her arms over his shoulders, running her fingers through the short hair at his nape.

"Of course."

Kate slides off of him to curl against his side, tracing patterns into the soft skin of his hands. He's warm and solid at her side and she wants him to _stay there_. No way will she sell him out once his body begins to betray him.

"Rick? Getting old doesn't mean there'll be a gap between us. I promise, I'm right here. I won't abandon you."

He nuzzles his nose into her hair, his arm winding around her waist. "I know. I'm sorry I freaked out."

"It's okay. And Castle?" Kate dips her head to hide the bubbling laughter that wants out, drawing a knee up to press at his thigh. "I kinda like the grey hair. It's sort of sexy."

"Silver fox do it for you, Beckett?"

She does laugh, then. Can't seem to help it. And she can see it so clearly, how he'll still make her laugh in his nineties.

"Something like that."

Castle hums something unintelligible and rolls over her, his mouth descending to show her just how much he's still got it.


	11. prepared

**prepared**

* * *

"Are you sure you're gonna be okay?" Castle says, planting both hands at Jack's shoulders to keep him in place.

Her brother is this thrumming ball of energy, striding back and forth through the loft and gathering things, his possessions scattered wide. Neither of their parents will let him carry boxes, so Bea has to do most of the heavy lifting.

She doesn't mind. Not really.

Jack turns to their mother, curls flopping into his eyes as he groans. "Mom. Can you tell him?"

"Rick, leave him alone." Their mother laughs, lacing slender fingers around their father's wrists to ease his hands off Jack. She leads him over to the couch and pushes him to sit, leaning in to murmur something in his ear that makes him grin, arching to kiss her.

Gross, guys.

Bea moves to take the last of Jack's belongings and box them up, stopping toe to toe with him for a moment. "You need me to take Dad out to get ice cream?"

Her brother laughs, hooking an arm around her neck and scrubbing his knuckles against her scalp. "No, Little Bean. I can handle him."

Jack's still in the soft cast, a silvery line at his temple where his skin split as his head smashed against the car window. And their father is haunted by shadowed places, echoes of bruises. It's taking him longer to recover than Jack and herself.

He's _old_, and it breaks her heart sometimes. The grey at his temples and spooling out, the soft grunt every time he stands.

Bea's sort of really, really jealous of her sister. Alexis got to have their father as a young man, still able to chase her and carry her and just. . .keep up.

Not that he didn't with them. It's not that, exactly. She's just not ready to watch her parents degenerate. At sixteen, she needs the certainty that they're sticking around.

Kate must sense some of the wash of despair through her daughter because she's standing, smoothing a hand over Bea's hair where her brother mussed it up. "You okay Beanie Baby?"

"Yeah. Is Dad?"

"He's fine." Her mother says, that careful certainty she's always had helping to untie the knot of fear in Bea's gut. "Why don't you go give him a hug? He looks like he needs it."

There's some truth to that. Her father is still on the couch, watching the three of them like his whole world is unravelling.

It's just college. Just her brother moving four hours away. Their father had some complaints about that, kept asking _why not Columbia like your sister_?

But Jack wants to study architecture and he got into Cornell and that's amazing. And it's only Ithica. Not that far.

Bea flops down on the couch next to her father, pushing the melodrama a little higher than what she really feels just to draw a smile from him. "Mom says you need a hug."

"Your mother is a smart woman, Beanie Ella." He says, curling an arm around her shoulders to haul her against his chest.

He's still got that soft warmth, somnolent and home. Even now, she sees hazy, half-formed memories of pillowing herself on his ribcage and listening to the quiet lilt of his voice spinning stories for her, taking her to a magical world.

And she knows he'd still do it if she'd only let him.

"You've still got two more years of me, Dad. We haven't all flown the nest yet." Bea sits back to look at her father, shoulder to shoulder with him.

He laughs, trenches of wear at the corners of his eyes. "I'd better start getting ready for that _now_ then. Who am I going to blame the mess on once you're both gone?"

"Mom's gonna kill you." Beatrice laughs, watching her mother drawing Jack in for a hug. They both know that it's not true.

Her parents adore each other. It's sometimes disgusting, but mostly kind of sweet. And she knows they'll be fine. She doesn't have to worry.

Her father might needle and tease and annoy her mom, but she's not going anywhere. Bea figures that if her mother has already survived twenty six years of him, another thirty or so will be easy.

Jack moves over to the couch, dragging their mother by the wrist. She settles down next to Bea, Jack sprawling out in the armchair. "So, my last night at home. You know what this calls for, Father?"

"Ice cream, my son." Their father says gravely, bursting into a laugh as Mom's hand slides behind Bea's shoulders to slap at her husband.

Bea grins, turning in to press her nose at her mother's collar bone. She feels needy, today. Like a child again. And their mother has always been the calm, serene in the eye of the storming chaos.

The place Bea can always go to feel safe.

Jack and their father are getting up, moving through to the kitchen to rummage in the freezer. And Bea knows for a fact that there's no ice cream left, because last week she and her friends finished it up in the middle of the night, clutching at each other and trying not to scream at the god-awful horror movie up on the projector.

They'll have to go out.

Bea takes the moment of ephemeral quiet to draw her knees up, curl closer in to her mother. "Mom, it's gonna be okay right? When Jack leaves."

"Oh Beanie, of course it is." Her mom says, drawing both arms around Bea to keep her close in the cove of her body.

"And when I go too. You and dad will be alright?" It's such a stupid thing to worry about, but she can't seem to help herself.

"Beatrice, your father and I were together for four years before Jack was born, and we were friends four years before that. We know how to get along."

Okay. Okay. Everything will be fine.

"I love you, Mom."


	12. knowledge

**knowledge**

* * *

Castle comes in the door and sheds his coat, feeling the catharsis of it as he moves to the closet and hangs it next to Kate's.

Rough day. Paula wants him to do another tour, promote the next Nikki Heat novel in Europe, Asia, Australia. And a part of him does feel obligated. His fans have always been so supportive, he owes it to them to do interviews, appear on their local television shows.

But Kate's here. Kate can't come with him for six month book tour. And they've only been married five months.

He won't leave her.

The loft is cold, November air rolling in and curling in wisps at the window panes, along the gaps underneath the doors. He shakes the chill off, unwinding his scarf and touching his fingertips to the cadaveric skin of his neck.

Could use the touch of a mouth, tender and wonderful. Where's his wife.

Their bed is carefully made, the sheets stretched taught in a plane of luxurious silk, and in the middle is Kate.

Looking. . .not good. Too pale, her skin almost translucent in the most delicate places. Her wrists, her eyelids, her neck. She doesn't look at him, doesn't even give any sign that she's awake at all until he slides in beside her, his knees pulled up to nudge hers, and she whimpers.

His hand falls to settle at her spine and he dusts his mouth at her temple. "Kate? Are you okay?"

"I'm gonna-" she grits out, sitting bolt upright with a hand pressed to her mouth, her eyes wide and terrified on his.

And then she's stumbling out of bed and to the bathroom, the clatter of ceramic jolting him hard enough that he staggers after her. He gathers her curls in a knot at her nape and holds them, his other hand hovering uselessly at her back as she wretches into the toilet bowl.

It lasts forever, ragged keening spilling from her as she tries to catch her breath, and then she's crumbling exhausted to the tile.

Castle fills a glass of water and guides her to sit up, his arm around her to keep her against his chest as she drinks the whole thing in slow sips.

"You been doing this all day?" He can't help but ask, the heat rolling off of her bringing with it the first fleeting taste of panic to the back of his throat.

Kate stands slowly, reaching for her toothbrush with her eyes still screwed closed. He takes it from her, loading it with toothpaste and passing it back, holding her up as she trembles with the effort of it.

"Yeah. Gates sent me home."

Castle nods, his hands cupped under her elbows to ease her back to their bed. His wife, his wife, and it kills him to see her suffer.

She lies back in the middle of the sheets and Rick moves to tug the covers out from under her, halted by the touch of her fingers at his thigh. "Don't. I don't want to get tangled and. . .not make it in time."

"Right. Can I get you anything?" He brushes her hair back from her face, reaches for a hair tie from her nightstand. "You think you can sit up long enough for me to braid?"

"Yeah. Feel better for a while when it's over." She murmurs, letting him guide her to sit in the vee of his legs.

He busies himself with her hair, tries to keep his hands off of her skin as best he can. She's gotten sick before, and he knows she hates to be touched.

She told him that it takes all her energy just to hold her skin together and keep her insides in place, and she can't handle him breaching the barricade.

"A stomach flu, you think?" He ties off the end of the braid, his palm spanning her back as he eases her back down to the pillow.

Kate's eyes are closed but she manages a trembling smile for him, her fingers landing at his forearm like an accident. "No. I was going to tell you at Thanksgiving."

"Tell me what? You're not seriously sick, are you?" He fists his hands so as not to clutch at her, shifting back to let her have room to breathe.

"No. Not sick. I wanted to make it romantic. Didn't know this would happen." Her chest lifts on a breathy laugh, her body in revolt so the sound doesn't even make it past her mouth.

"Kate?"

She opens her eyes, dark with vulnerability, and she curls her fingers into his waistband. "I took the test last week. Thought it would be fun to wait. Write it in your card or something."

What? What is she saying? "I don't understand."

"You know. _Happy Thanksgiving, Daddy. Love, Kate and Bump_." Her eyes are closing again, lashes falling like shadows against him.

It burns through him, startling clarity and hopeless, irrefutable joy. "_Kate_. What are you saying?"

"I don't have a stomach flu. I'm pregnant."

He chokes out a gasp, his palm coming up to cup her cheek. He presses his mouth to her forehead, her skin burning under him. "Are you sure? How far along?"

"About five weeks, I'd guess. I haven't booked in with the ob gyn yet. Wanted to tell you first."

Oh God. Oh, Kate. "A _baby_."

"Is that. . .okay, with you? I mean, your eldest graduates college next year. I do understand if you don't want to do it all again."

A whisper of quiet grief escapes him and he nudges closer, skating his fingertips over the footholds of her braid. "Of course I want to do it again. I always wanted more kids. I just didn't want to have to do it alone. But with you, Kate, there's nothing I want more."

"I was hoping you'd say that." She breathes, nuzzling her nose into his sternum. "I really kind of want this baby. A lot."


	13. denial

**denial**

* * *

Maybe if he just doesn't think about it, everything will be fine.

Jack stretches, the hard press of muscle just underneath his skin poised and ready for action. He's in shape, always has been.

Alba likes it. His girlfriend rolls onto her stomach next to him on the lounger, reaching up to unhook the strap of her bikini and let the length of her back tan uninterrupted. Lithe and gorgeous, her honey-cast curls are gathered in some intricate knot at her nape, gossamer strands spilling out to frame her cheekbones.

She took her sunglasses off so they wouldn't make patches of pale skin around her eyes and it makes her squint up at him, chin pillowed on his chest. "That your phone?"

"Yeah. Just Beanie." He nods, stretching down to kiss Alba. She tastes like lotion and blossom and sweet sunshine and Jack hums into it, skating his fingertips over the notches of her vertebrae.

She's quieter than his sisters, his grandmother. Reminds him of his mom in some ways, actually. She's level-headed. Always the one to say _no, Jack. Let's do it this way_.

And she's right, mostly.

He loves her. Quietly, introspectively, embarrassed even, but he does.

"Everything okay with her?" Alba says, fastening her swimsuit top again and sitting up, legs folded underneath her. As if she knows, somehow, from the hitch in his lungs beneath her ear or the hum of tension in his jaw.

"She's fine, yeah."

"And everyone else?"

Ah, okay. Right. She knows him better than to let him keep secrets. Hide things from her, or from himself. "Dad's. . .not doing so good."

"The forgetting?" Alba takes his hand in both of hers, tracing her fingers in between his knuckles so his skin ripples out, unmade by her touch.

Guilt rips through him, his insides war-torn and savaged. He needs to be at home, but-

He's no good at the serious parts, never has been. When he was younger, it was a good thing. He could always diffuse a fight, lighten the mood.

But now, with his father's synapses slowly collapsing and his mother crawling inside her own grief, he's panicking.

Lying by the pool with the woman he loves at the Nokomis beach house he built for her, Jack's body feels limp with shame.

"He keeps getting Mom's name wrong. Calling her Nikki. Which upsets her, and then Dad gets upset too because _she's_ upset. Beanie said that half the times she shows up at the loft the two of them are just sitting crying on the couch."

Alba hums a soft noise of sympathy and Jack finds himself tipping forward, needing the comfort of her skinship. "Jack? Do you want to go home?"

"No." He chokes out. "No, but I have to, don't I?"

Her palm comes up to cradle his scalp, fingers sifting through his curls as she holds on. "Yeah. I think so."

"But your work, Albie. The aquarium." He murmurs against her neck, darting his tongue out to taste salt and warmth.

She nudges him back, the pale slate of her eyes sharp with ferocity. "This is your _family_. Go be with them."

"You're my family too." Jack grunts, tugging her back in to him. Too forceful, the crash of her bones against his drawing a whimper from her throat, but he can't quite seem to help himself. "I can't do this without you."

"I'll get the time off work, then. Family emergency. That's not why you've been so unwilling to tell me is it? Did you think I wouldn't want to go with you?"

He wants to argue, wants to defend himself, but she's wide open and so gorgeous he doesn't stand a chance. Never has done, from the very first moment he saw her. "This is. . .my crisis. I don't want to drag you under."

"You're not dragging. I'm diving." Alba kisses him, sun-drenched and lovely. "I love you, Jack. Let's go see your family."

* * *

Kate glances up, the scratch of a key in the lock still setting her on high alert. She leans back into the couch, both hands still curled around one of Castle's as he sleeps. Only, it's not Bea dropping by for a visit.

Oh, it's Jack. It's her baby boy.

He grins at her, tall and bronzed and Alba just behind him. Jack's girlfriend is petite and quiet. Not withdrawn, exactly. More like she's just carefully observing the chaos around her. Jack says she'll often spill it all back out to him when they get home, things he never would have picked up on.

Her son's arms open to her, that mischievous grin cracking wide, and Kate moves in to his embrace. "_Jack_. You're home."

"Beanie sent me something of an SOS, Mom. Said you old folk keep falling apart on her." He laughs, but Kate can't echo it.

She feels the joy flooding down her face and her son sobers, holding her by the shoulders. "Mom? It's that bad?"

"It's not good." She nods, turning away a moment to battle back the choke of emotion. Losing Rick would break her apart, leave her unspooling and hollow.

But to have him leave her, piece by piece. . .it is infinitely worse, an agony that just keeps on rotting away at them both.

To have him wake up in their bed and not know her, to have him suddenly stiffen in the middle of a movie and turn and ask who she is.

She will give anything. Anything. Shards of her own goddamn brain if it means she can have him back, have him lucid with her and then slip quietly away in his sleep, all the while knowing that she loves him.

The worst part. That he's trapped in the shell of his own mind. He doesn't remember how absolutely, unbearably in love with him she is. And he's young.

He's so young. Seventy three is infinitely too young to forget yourself. Not that it matters.

He's going anyway.


	14. wind

**wind**

* * *

"Momma." Bea says, resting her chin in the cup of her palms with her elbows braced against the counter. An impish smile breaks across her face and Kate can't help but grin back, leaning in to nudge her nose against her daughter's.

"Yes baby?"

Sticky hands come up to settle at Kate's cheeks, her baby girl suddenly serious. An intensity to the set of her jaw that seems a little much for a six year old. "Can we go on a blustery day walk?"

"Beanie, manners." Castle calls from the living room, lounging in the arm chair with their son in his lap, reading together.

"_Please_, Momma?" Their daughter is startling earnest, the all-over crazy of her curls spilling into her eyes so she huffs, shoving her bangs back with her palm.

Kate shrugs, rounding the counter and scooping her daughter up, nuzzling into the soft warmth of her neck. "I don't know, Little Bean. Daddy and Jack look pretty comfortable, don't you think?"

"But Momma, it's Winds-day." Bea whimpers, squirming in Kate's arms to get down.

Beckett clutches her tighter, keeping her close all the way to the couch and then dropping down, an arm still hooked at Bea's waist so she can't stray far from the cove of Kate's body.

"I know baby. I know you love that movie, and a blustery day walk to celebrate Winds-day would be fun. But in a family, we can't do what just one person wants to do. We have to make sure everyone is happy."

Bea's bottom lip trembles, mouth parted, and Kate has seen this enough to know it for what it is. The prelude to a full-blown screaming tantrum.

Please no. Not here, in her father's cabin. They wanted to escape the chaos of the city for a little while, take the kids and the dog and bask in the stunning wholeness of nature.

Kate peppers kisses all over her daughter's face, manages to draw a reluctant smile out of her. Over the top of Bea's head, she meets her husband's eyes. His are soft at the corners, something pensive there.

And then he's standing, coming over to Kate with Jack scooped under his arm. Castle swaps kids with her, drawing Bea up to his chest and tucking her hair back behind her ear.

"Now, Beanie Ella. Today feels like a good day to learn about compromise." Rick sinks back down into the armchair and arranges Bea on his knee, both arms still tight around her. She blinks at him, seems to already be halfway to forgetting that she's upset.

"Compromise is where we make a plan that makes everybody happy. So we don't do exactly what you want to do, or exactly what Jack or Mommy or I want to do. We do a little bit of everything. Okay?"

Bea nods, her eyes still watery but a smile breaking through. "So we can do my walk, but also something that Jacky wants?"

"Yeah. So how about you and I brush Snicket while Mommy and Jack finish up his chapter, and then we'll all go on a Winds-day walk. That sound good?" Castle presses a kiss to their daughter's forehead, letting her slide off of his knee to go find the dog's brush.

Castle gets down on the floor and calls Snicket to sit between his legs, Bea coming back to sit on her father's thigh. She drags the brush through the caramel fur at the dog's back and he lays down, head pillowed on his paws.

And Bea's grinning, humming the Winds-day song to herself. Kate half wants to go find her phone and take a video, but Jack's nudging his elbow into her ribs.

Right, yeah. Finish the chapter, Mommy.

* * *

Jack grabs for his sister's hand, both of them bundled up warm in scarves and hats that keep trying to escape, buoyant on their childrens' russet curls.

"I'll be Tigger and you can be Piglet, Beanie." Jack says, tugging Bea down the path. Not even a path at all really, just some stones picked out amongst the scattering of leaves and flowers and grass.

Rick lets out a breathy laugh at them, barrelling down the trail with Snicket in between them, and he turns to glance at Kate.

She's grinning, lighter and happier than he's seen her in a while. A slew of rough cases lately, barely enough time for her to kiss the kids goodnight and crawl into bed with him.

But now they're here, cell phones turned off and no Internet either. And he gets to have her to himself.

Well, he shares with their kids, but he doesn't mind that. Watching her with them, the way she blossoms. . .he finds himself falling more and more in love with her every time.

"We have some great kids." He says, leaning in to brush his mouth at her cheek.

She takes a step closer, her side bumping up against his, and the heat of her rushes in to fill the spaces in his bones that the wind is chipping raw. "We really do. Mostly because they've got a great daddy."

Whoa, no. Not true. Not true at all.

Castle falters, turning to face his wife and drawing her against him with his arms low around her hips. "You know they adore you, right?"

"Yeah." She darts in to kiss him, slow and languorous, and then she pulls back on a grin. "Now come on, Kanga. Don't want to lose them in the Hundred Acre Wood."

She moves away, tugging him behind her with her palm kissing his, their fingers wrapped tight.

"Hey, whoa, I'm not Kanga, I'm totally Owl. Come on." He huffs, letting her tug him. She turns back to laugh at him, the press of her tongue through her teeth drawing all his attention so he almost stumbles.

He growls low in his throat, catching up to press his mouth to hers in a bruising kiss.

He is so _not_ a kangaroo, Kate.

* * *

**A/N: I was absolutely astounded by the response to the last chapter. It really seemed to resonate with so many of you. Thank you for all your kind words of support and encouragement. Especially you Eli, you little shit.**


	15. order

**order**

* * *

Well.

This is significantly more boring than he thought.

Castle slides his hand along the bench, fingertips stretching out in yearning for the length of her thigh. She's put a stupid amount of distance between them, trying to look professional, but honestly, it just makes his efforts to touch her all the more exciting.

And God knows he needs some excitement. The whole courtroom thing? Yeah. . .not as fun as he'd hoped. But Kate's here, tantalisingly close to him, and every time she shifts he catches the thickness of her scent, musk and sweetness.

The same scent he finds trapped in his sheets every morning, but that's so not the point. This is infinitely more exciting.

Not that she's going to let him do anything. Beckett has to testify, and that means he absolutely cannot get her all flustered.

So of course, he's going to do everything in his power to do exactly that.

"Stop it." She hisses, leaning in to him even as her hand slams down on top of his. _Ouch_, Beckett. Sort of crushing his fingers, quite a lot.

He slides his hand out from under hers, shifting infinitesimally closer. Close enough that delicious warmth rolls off of her and soaks into him. "What's the matter? Can't handle a little touching?"

Kate wraps her ankle around his and he grins, leaning back against the seat, and then she's_ stabbing her heel into his foot_.

Jeez, okay, he gets it. No teasing her. There's no doubt that she can murder him right here in complete silence and make it look like an accident if he gives her a reason.

"Castle, please, this is my job. Come on."

She's thrumming with tension next to him, and shame roars through his stomach, a tsunami tide that threatens to tug him under. "Right. Sorry."

Kate offers him a tight smile, putting another inch of space between them, and Castle fights to keep his sigh inaudible. Hands clasped and caught between his knees, he scans the courtroom for something interesting.

So dull. It was an open and shut case; he has no idea why Beckett was even called to testify. But she was, and of course he offered to keep her company, and now they're both stuck here.

He could be at the precinct with the boys right now. Or with his daughter. There's some new guy on the scene, apparently.

Alexis has been very, very quiet about it. Which, his mother says, is a good sign. When she talks about it, it means she's having doubts, she needs reassurance. But with this boy, with Eli, Alexis is rosy with contentment.

He hasn't met the kid yet. Soon, he hopes. His daughter is understandingly tentative about it, not exactly eager for her new boyfriend to meet her famous father and his detective fiancée.

Wife, soon. So very soon. Two months from now they'll be married, and he can't wait. Being her husband is going to be the most amazing experience of his life, he can already tell.

Castle jolts at the touch of Kate's fingers to his thigh, everyone around them standing up to file out of their rows.

"Judge called a recess." She says on a smile, taking his hand to tug him up with her.

They make it to the end of the row and then some lawyer Kate must have worked with before is coming up to them, all chiselled jaw and slick hair.

"Detective Beckett," he shoots a pointed glance to the clasp of their hands. "I see you found yourself some man candy."

Kate lifts her left hand and Castle wants to crow with delight as the smarmy bastard's eyes widen. "Actually Kellerman, it's a little more serious than that. Nice talking to you again."

And then she's dragging Castle behind her out into the hallway, the rush of cool air welcome after the stagnant heat of the courtroom. "He seemed nice."

"Shut up." She laughs, whirling around to face him. He crowds her with the solid line of his body, easing her back against the wall and nudging his hips into hers.

Castle leans in, his mouth hovering just over hers so the shared mix of their breathing condenses, their life made liquid. "Make me."

She arches her neck, pouring three hours of pent-up lust into him and he gives it right back, trying to get his hands on bare skin without messing up any of her careful façade. She hums against his mouth, her hands sliding through the fine hair at his nape, and then she's breaking away.

"You faded out on me in there, buddy. Do I even want to ask what you were thinking of?"

He smirks, licking a hot trail along her jaw and then stepping away, coming to lean against the wall with his bicep brushing hers. "Not _that_, Kate. That's not really conducive to keeping my hands off of you, is it?"

"Well what then?"

"You." He watches the thread of confusion in her jaw, her eyes flicking to his and back to the linoleum. "The wedding. How I can't wait to marry you."

Kate's hands fist in his lapel and tug him back to her, body alive and surging against his. She takes his mouth, bruising and intense, her chest heaving against his. And it's so good, still so good.

He lets her have him, slide her tongue over the ridges of his teeth and then slip down to lave at his pulse. He's never been so grateful to a vending machine as the one hiding them from the rest of the people in the hallway.

And then a clerk is stepping out of the courtroom, asking everyone to make their way back inside, and Kate's raking her teeth along his bottom lip and then stepping back. She runs slender fingers down his tie to set it flat and then she smirks, stepping away from him with a sinful swing to her hips.

"Remember, Castle. Order in court."

* * *

**A/n: And so, we reach the halfway point. Onward, brave soldiers.**


	16. thanks

**thanks**

* * *

He's allowed to cut the cord.

The baby – their _daughter _– lies pillowed against Kate's chest and the midwife beckons to him, hands him the scissors. He can't help but falter, just for a moment. It falls to him to sever the connection that has kept their child alive for the past forty one weeks, and there's something poignant about it.

With Jack, they were cutting the cord almost as soon as he was out, rushing him away. Their son's first breath was a battle, had to be forced out of him.

It's all so fresh, still. Kate sobbing into his shoulder as they waited to hear whether their baby boy would be alright. _Too early, too early_, Kate kept saying, retreating further and further into herself with each contraction like that would help slow their son's progress, keep him safe inside until it was time.

In comparison, this has been easy. A long list of contractions ticked off one by one, pacing miles and miles of corridor to let gravity help, his hand firm at her spine to give deep pressure, keep her upright.

Castle moves back to the head of the bed, leans in to kiss her and then sinks to the mattress next to her hip, cradling the back of their baby's head in his palm. She's still kind of gross-looking, hasn't been cleaned off yet.

Only really a brisk once-over with a towel and then they were wrapping her in a blanket, handing her to Kate. And it's so good this way, so good to watch their daughter's mouth root against the creamy skin of Kate's chest, tiny fingers coming up to splay there.

"She's so perfect, Kate." He grits out, swallowing back the clog of emotion in his throat. She glances up at him, hot tears unspooling and sliding down to the precipice of her jaw.

He kisses her again, can't keep it back. Not now, when he's so in love with her he might just come apart at the seams. She did this, stood strong through wave after wave of burning pain, and now she's given him their daughter.

The midwife comes back to ease the baby up off Kate's chest and Castle feels his wife go stiff with tension, fighting not to take their baby back. "Just weighing her?"

"And then you can have her right back, Mommy." The midwife smiles. She knows all about what they went through with Jack, had to listen to the outpouring of Castle's concern while Kate rolled her eyes at him.

But it helps. Having her reassure them. He knows Kate needs it too, even if she's pretending otherwise.

Their daughter squirms in the midwife's arms, tiny mewling sounds that rip right through him. He's full up with it, the yearning to keep her safe pulsing hard in his veins. Castle leans in again, his forehead buoyant against Kate's as he dusts his mouth over hers.

"I love you so much. Thank you for our daughter."

She laughs, a trembling hand coming up to cradle his cheek. "You helped."

"Yeah, with the fun part. You did all the work." He grins, stepping back to let her sink down against the pillows. "You need anything?"

"Just my daughter." Kate's mouth lifts in a soft smile, her lashes drifting like shadows.

The second midwife touches a gentle hand to her shoulder, humming a laugh as Kate's eyes startle open. "I know you're tired, honey, but we have to deliver the placenta. I'm just going to massage your stomach to help things along. You getting any cramps?"

"Some. Not too bad."

"Well let me know if you need to take something for them, okay?" The midwife says, her hands already slipping under Kate's gown to knead the hard mound of her stomach. Castle fumbles for his wife's fingers, bringing them up to his mouth to press a line of kisses to her knuckles.

He takes a moment to stay that way, breathing her in, and then they're coming back with his daughter. And he gets to hold her, cradling her close to his chest and resting his mouth at the tiny stretch of her forehead.

So much hair, already. Thick and dark like his, a cap of smooth ink. He loses himself in his little girl, watches the wheeling soft focus of her eyes, clear and forever blue like the swathe of sky outside of their window.

Doesn't even notice the bustle of the midwives until Kate's reaching for him, curling her fingers in his pocket and tugging. His hip smacks against the mattress and she keeps going, pulling him so he sits with her.

She reaches out for their daughter and he passes her over, touching his fingertip to her palm and breaking open on a grin as tiny fingers curl around his. "So, Poe or Snicket?"

"Lenore's kinda morbid, don't you think." Kate doesn't look at him, transfixed by their little girl, but her hand settles at his thigh.

Rick shrugs, slipping an arm around Kate's shoulders to ease her back against him. "I don't know. So is Beatrice."

"Beatrice has all the dedications, though. Like you and I. Seems poignant." She's flagging on him, her words little more than blurred lines, but he knows she won't sleep until they decide.

He settles his mouth at her temple, running his fingertip gently over the baby's cheek and watching her root. "I like it. And you're still happy with Eleanor?"

"Mm. A mystery writer after your own heart."

Castle huffs, meeting Kate's mouth with his again and pouring into it everything. Immeasurable gratitude and burning, choking adoration. "Only one woman for my heart. And it's not Eleanor Kuhns."

"You're a sap." She laughs at him, even as she's leaning in to press kisses in a sentry row at their daughter's cheek.

"So we're decided. Beatrice Eleanor Castle." The baby's eyes startle to his like she knows, and of course that's stupid, but it doesn't stop his grin.

"Our little Bea."

* * *

**A/N: Happy Father's Day, lovelies. **


	17. look

**look**

* * *

"Could you just _stop it_." Kate hisses, slapping at his wandering fingers and taking a step away from him, her hips bumping up against the counter.

She busies herself with the scattering of debris across the surface, clearing everything away. Yes, Castle makes gorgeous coffee, but he can't seem to do it without making ridiculous amounts of mess.

His hands fall hot at her waist and he nudges her harder into the counter, his mouth descending to lave at the stuttering arrhythmia of her pulse. "Doesn't seem much like you want me to stop."

"We are at _work_." Beckett grits out, jabbing her elbow into his ribcage just hard enough to earn herself a little breathing room.

Honestly. Ever since she said yes he's been utterly insatiable. And fine, okay, so has she, but really. Even at work, he can't tone it down. Any excuse to brush his bare skin to hers.

And the _looks_ he gives her. The arc of his smile, eyes dark and intense on her. How he traces her every movement with his gaze.

Fine, yes, they're getting married. Why does that mean he can't control himself? It was cute at first. Now it's really sort of embarrassing.

"I know. That doesn't mean I don't want to kiss my wife."

Beckett scoffs at that, rolling her eyes at him and moving to sink onto the couch. "I'm not your wife."

"Close enough." He shrugs, following and settling closer to her side than she hoped. Damn it, Castle. It's one thing Gates being okay with them dating, but a married couple working as partners is against protocol on every level. They have yet to tell the captain about their engagement.

Keep putting it off, delaying the inevitable. However annoying Castle might be, she really doesn't want to lose his presence at work.

Kate takes an ephemeral moment to settle her cheek against his shoulder, smoothing her fingertips over the crag of his jaw, and then she shifts away again. "Seriously, Castle."

"I am serious. I don't know how to push it back."

"Well you need to figure out a way." Beckett sighs, feels the trenches of concern embed themselves in her forehead. "If Gates sees us like this. . ."

"I know. I'm sorry. I'm just excited, I guess. You're going to be my wife." That same cracking grin opens over him, his whole face coming alight with it the way it does every time he says the word.

Kate offers her hand to him, lets him knot their fingers together. He needs the reassurance. And that stings, too.

Even now, he doubts her. "You know I'm excited too, right?"

"Oh, yeah, I know. Oh Kate, I get it. This is your job." He slides closer, cupping her cheek in his palm to keep her close as he leans in to kiss her. He keeps it light, dusting his mouth to hers again and again.

Jeez, they're screwed. "What is it gonna be like when we're actually married?"

"Hopefully easier." He laughs, sitting back from her again. "We've got the honeymoon to try to get it out of our systems."

Beckett bites her lip and averts her eyes, her pulse thumping hard. "I don't really want to get you out of my system. Or vice versa."

"Oh, I see. So you want me to pine after you but I'm not allowed to act on it, is that it?" He grins at her, making his eyebrows dance as well.

She could hit him. Or kiss him. And isn't _that_ a familiar emotion? The predominant thought cycling through her brain the first four years she knew him.

"It's not that I want you to pine, but. . .I like the way you look at me. I don't want that part to stop." She doesn't want the touching to stop either, not really, but it has to.

One eyebrow stays quirked and he runs his thumb along her knuckles, clattering half-music alight in her heart at the touch. "How do I look at you, Kate?"

Oh jeez. Okay, so he's going to make her say it. Really, that shouldn't be such an ordeal. She's going to marry him, isn't she?

"You look at me like you don't see anything else. It's like tunnel vision. You remember when Raglan was shot? He was dying on the floor next to you and you barely even noticed because you thought_ I_ was hurt."

All the amusement drains away from his face and he stares at her, jaw slack with surprise. Yeah, she wasn't really expecting that sort of outpouring either.

"Well yeah, if you're in danger my world tends to narrow to just trying to keep you safe. But what about when you're not? Just a normal day. How do I look at you then?" He's not pushing, not really. Just genuine curiosity.

And she loves that about him, she always has. How he took the time to get to know her, didn't run when he saw her most broken places.

"You look sort of like I'm all you want to see for the rest of your life." Kate purses her mouth at him, tips her chin in question.

Castle grins, his whole body tight with tension as he battles not to come back and kiss her. "Well that's true. You are. . .everything. My wife."

"Yeah, about that. I've been thinking." His face falls, a flood of desolation, and she can't help but lean in and brush her mouth to his, tender and unhurried. "You know I want to stay Beckett at the precinct. But in everything else, I want to take your name."

"You do?" He gasps, already grinning so wide it seems he might choke on his own joy. "Because you know you don't have to. Neither Meredith nor Gina did."

"I know. I want to. I want to be a part of your family. And when the time comes, I want to have the same name as our kids."


	18. summer

**summer**

* * *

"Daddy!" Bea squeals, yanking on his hand to tug him into the roped-off arena. Castle stumbles over the threshold and scoops his daughter up, her legs curled around his waist.

So _much _of her now. They're both tall, himself and Kate, and Bea's a head above the rest of her class, even at five. She doesn't seem to feel awkward about it, but his wife thinks it's coming. She's told him about her preteen years, before the guys and some of the other girls caught up and she was this singular, gangly freak.

It makes his heart ache for her. And for Bea.

"Yes, Beanie Baby? What did you see?" Rick presses a smacking kiss to his baby's cheek and follows her pointer finger, letting her guide him.

Her heels dig into his sides when they reach their destination and she gapes, leaning down so rapidly she almost slips right out of his arms. "Daddy, _look_."

"I see them. Little babies, huh?" Castle sets his daughter down and watches her press her nose to the glass of the incubator, meeting the eyes of the guy hanging out at the other side.

A farmer, maybe?

Country show, Kate said. And he'd shuddered, caught up in pictures of mud and awful smells and unruly animals. He's not really a country sort of guy.

But Kate wanted to come, and both the kids are having fun, so it's fine. More than fine.

"You want to hold one?" The farmer guy is saying, already scooping one of the chicks and holding it out for Bea. "Just hatched yesterday."

"Daddy?" His daughter blinks up at him, her eyes wide with yearning, and Rick grins. He crouches down next to her and takes the tiny creature from the farmer, cupping it in both hands.

It's easier than he expected. The little body goes still, the feathers so soft. A new life cradled in his palms. "Okay Beanie. You need to be firm, okay? Not too tight, but the little guy needs to feel like he's safe."

"Okay Daddy." Bea says, cupping her hands and holding them out to him. He eases the chick into the bowl of her palms, wrapping his fingers around hers to make sure she's got it.

And then he lets go, dropping back enough to give her room to beam, staring down at the fluffy baby bird. "I'm holding him."

"You are. He likes you, look." Castle grins at his little girl, the chick tracking her every move. Wow. That's actually really pretty adorable.

He tugs his cell free from his pants pocket and opens up the camera application to frame the shot. And then slender fingers slide around his shoulders, startling him so badly it takes everything he has not to fall flat.

"Kate."

"Hey stud." His wife smiles down at him, pressing a kiss to his forehead on her way to kneeling in front of their daughter. "Hi Little Bean."

"Mommy, I'm holding a baby chicken." Bea squeals, thrusting her hands out towards Kate so she has no choice but to accept the chick from their daughter.

The way Kate cradles him so carefully, the tender adoration she levels on their daughter. All of it ruins him, his guts turned liquid.

"Wow, he's really soft, huh?" Kate grins, standing up to hand the chick back to the farmer guy and lift Bea into her arms. "I remember when you were that tiny."

"You holded me in one hand, Momma?" Their daughter's eyes go wide again, the fringe of her lashes a delicate framework for her fascination.

Kate laughs, jostling Bea against her hip and leaning in to kiss the end of her nose. "No, but Daddy did. And Jack was even tinier than you. So tiny that he slept in a special warm box, just like the chicks."

"Where's Jacky now?"

Castle glances at his wife, an eyebrow raised. Yes, Kate, where's their son?

"He's just there." Kate points, and Rick can't help but laugh at the sight of his son, precarious on his stool with his fingertips curled into the fleece of an unfortunate alpaca. "With Papa, see."

"I please can go too and see the weird horse?" Bea blinks, struggling her way free of her mother's grip. Kate lets her, setting their daughter steady on her feet and watching her charge toward her brother.

Castle slides his hands to his wife's hips and tugs her back against him, nudging his nose against her cheek. "Missed you."

"We were barely gone ten minutes." She turns in the cove of his arms, a soft laugh spilling up out of her.

Rick shrugs, not even trying to stifle his grin. "I know. Jack liked the fire stimulation tent?"

"Especially the crawling through smoke. He wants to be a fireman now, you know." Kate smirks, shaking her head. Her whole face lights up with it, tender amusement and love in soft-focus, the haze of summer and the sharp excitement in their children filling them both up with so much joy.

"Maybe he will be." Castle takes her hand, starts to lead her over to the kids. Kate's father stands just to the side, watching them both carefully as they dote upon the poor alpaca.

She falters, pressing a fleeting kiss to the corner of his mouth. "Yeah, maybe. There's a quad bike show in the main arena in fifteen minutes. Can we watch?"

"Hey." Castle cups her cheeks in his palms, leaning in to kiss her how he really wants. "You don't have to ask my permission. Whatever you want to do."

"Okay. I guess I'm asking, then, you want to come?" She catches her lower lip between her teeth, mouth arcing up at the corners.

Rick grins too, nuzzling his nose at the rise of her cheekbone. "Of course. We'll all go."

He finds her mouth again, thoroughly absorbed in the taste of her, and then their daughter's voice cuts through their bubble of adoration.

"Momma, can we have an alpaca?"

* * *

**A/N: For Eli and KT and Becca, who wanted an alpaca. I met one today and became immediately even more enamoured than I already was.**

**There's a photograph over on tumblr: .com (slash) post (slash) 53303215765**


	19. transformation

**transformation**

* * *

Jack lies on his back in the textured darkness; the honeyed weight of Alba pillowed half on top of him. His fingers card through her hair over and over, curls ash grey in the moonlight. She's not sleeping, he knows from the thrumming tension in her shoulders, tight and rhythmic against his palm.

"It'll be okay, yeah?" She murmurs into his bare skin, her nose nuzzling there.

He loves her. At first with the kind of drunken desperation he thought only happened in movies, but now they're true. Now he finds himself wanting to be with her all the time, the petite stretch of her body in his sheets an utterly perfect thing.

"Yeah. You know Beanie likes you. And my dad is so easy to get along with. He's good at creating a relaxed atmosphere."

His girlfriend hums a noise that might be acquiescence, drawing her knee up to meet his thigh. "Yeah. But your mom."

"What about my mom?" Jack laughs, dusting his mouth to her cheek. Alba rolls onto her stomach and folds her arms, propping herself up against his ribcage, a wash of fear that guts him even in the half light.

"Your mom is a cop, Jack. And the way you and Bea talk about her, the way your dad wrote about her. . .I get the impression she's pretty amazing."

Oh, Albie. She's really worried that his _mom_ won't like her? "She is amazing. And you know what? You remind me so much of her."

"Really?" Alba drops her head to his chest, her laughter bubbling over his skin and catching in the valleys of him for safekeeping. "In what way? I don't know that I'd be a great cop."

"No, not that. You love the way she does. Quietly, fiercely. That thing you do, not liking to be the center of attention? My mom's exactly the same."

"_Jack_." Albie grits out, sliding up the length of him to crush her mouth to his. In it he tastes all the things she doesn't find it easy to say. Neither does he. They are both like his mother in that respect. "I'm scared."

"Hey." He curls two fingers at her chin to tip her face up to him, a kiss to the end of her nose that makes her eyelashes trip and fall. "They're going to love you. Just as much as I do."

* * *

Bea answers the door, racing her father and crashing an elbow into his ribcage to earn herself the privilege. He huffs and takes a step back, settling himself at her mother's side.

Good. Mom can keep him in check better than anyone. This is. . .a big deal.

On the other side of the door, Jack's got his palm cupped at Alba's back. And it really does look like she needs it. Bea has met her brother's girlfriend a few times before, knows that she's a little quieter than their family.

She's never seen her like this, though. Skin milky, the pounding arrhythmia in her veins visible, blue-black at her wrists. Eyes cast down.

This won't do.

Bea pulls Alba into her arms, squeezing tight to try and let some courage diffuse through. She gets it, she really does. Her parents, famous mystery writer and homicide detective, are intimidating to even the most assertive of spirits.

"Hi Albie. Your guys' drive okay?" Bea asks, raises an eyebrow at her brother still hovering in the threshold.

Alba nods, drawing a smile up from somewhere. Maybe it's the familiar face, maybe the curl of Jack's fingers around her shoulder like fortification, but she seems a little more comfortable.

"I'm glad. Well, come in. Meet the parents." Bea laughs, stepping out of the way to let her parents move through.

Her father taking the lead, of course, shaking Alba's hand vigorously and giving her that little boy smile, the lines at his eyes running like tributaries. "Nice to meet you, Alba."

"You too, Mr Castle."

He scoffs at that, dropping her hand to nudge Mom forward instead. "Please, it's Rick. And this is my wife, Kate."

Bea watches her mother's slow perusal of Alba, the half-turn towards her dad and the uplift of her eyebrow. "Castle, take Jack to the kitchen and fix everyone a drink, please."

Her dad goes and Bea hovers awkwardly in between. Figures the blanch of terror over Alba is an indication that she should stay. For moral support, if nothing else.

Not that Bea can understand how her mother could ever be perceived a threat. She's got her hands carefully set at Alba's shoulders, her eyes open and rich. "It's great to have you here, Alba. I've been looking forward to meeting the girl my son fell in love with."

And something in the softness of Mom's voice, some careful unlacing of expectation, has Alba relaxing. Bea watches the tension drain right out of her, watches her let Mom guide her in for a hug, and slips away to the kitchen.

Her brother has his hip propped against the counter, watching their father filling glasses with ice. He's chewing on his lip, doesn't seem to notice the appearance of his sister.

"Dad?" He starts, has to take a moment to clear his throat. "Dad. I'm scared."

Their father sets the last glass down and moves to clasp a hand at Jack's shoulder. "What's wrong?"

"I love her. I love her so much it terrifies me. I think. . .I think I want to marry her." His brow furrows and Bea presses her hand to her mouth, tries not to squeal.

Their father grins, shaking his head. "I fell in love with your mom almost the moment I laid eyes on her, buddy. Took me four years to get her to agree to date me."

"Exactly. Don't you think this is moving too fast?"

Dad's whole face settles, pride stretched over his bones. "No. I like the person she turns you into. But hey, don't rush. The best things are worth the wait."


	20. tremble

**tremble**

* * *

"Hey Mom."

Kate glances up in time to see Bea fling her backpack up the stairs, toeing out of her shoes and shrugging her jacket off too. Her daughter turns around on a grin, stretching both arms above her head and arching onto tiptoe.

"Hi Beanie." Kate stands, intercepting Bea on her way to the kitchen and pressing a smacking kiss to her cheek that makes her huff out a sigh. "Good day?"

"I guess. Had a test in Chem." Beatrice grumbles, disappearing inside the fridge and coming back with a carton of juice.

She fetches glasses, pushing her hair back out of her face with her free hand. Kate's always weathering complaints about it, Bea moaning every time she doesn't bother to tame it and it falls free, tipping everywhere.

_Such an inconvenience, Mom_.

Bea pours drinks for both of them, rounding the counter to hand her mother the glass and settle at the barstool next to her. She ties the inky spill of her curls into a knot at her nape and spins on the seat, her knees rising up from the hem of her skirt and knocking at Kate's thigh.

"How was your day? Why are you home, anyway?" Beatrice raises an eyebrow, fiddling with the huge ring on her index finger. Costume jewellery she appropriated from her grandmother, and maybe a little much for a thirteen year old, but it doesn't hurt anyone.

The way Kate sees it, sustaining a civil relationship with her teenage daughter is going to require some acquiescence.

"Oh well thanks. You don't want me here, huh Beanie?" Kate arches an eyebrow, grinning softly at her baby girl.

She scoffs, nudging her toes into Kate's ankle. "You know I didn't mean that. I thought things were crazy at work lately."

"Yeah, they are. But I had my captain's exam this morning. Got the rest of the day off." Kate says, biting her lip to stifle a grin.

Bea shrieks, standing up to tug her mother into a crushing hug. Kate gets her daughter's shoulder jammed against her ribcage, the sharp jut of Beanie's chin pressed into her clavicle.

But it's nice. Kate shifts to get her arms around her girl, smoothing her hand over the curve of Bea's skull.

"Why didn't you tell us? Did Dad know?"

Kate laughs into Beatrice's temple, letting her go sit back at the barstool. "I didn't want the pressure of you guys knowing. But yes, Dad knew. Tío told him by accident."

Javier had called her, uncharacteristically apologetic, to let her know that he'd sort of accidentally informed Castle that Kate was going to sit the captain's exam and she might want to prepare herself for that.

Rick had actually been pretty good about it. No pressure. He made her breakfast this morning, kissed her goodbye with so much tenderness she'd half wanted to curl her fingers around his tie and take him back to bed.

"Where _is_ Dad?" Bea drains the last of her drink and stands, rounding the counter and chewing at her lip.

Kate laces her fingers and sets them at the counter, watches the easy grace of her daughter's movement through the kitchen. "He had meetings with Black Pawn all day. And Jack's at football practice. Just us girls until seven."

"Oh." Bea's face washes with surprise, a soft happiness left in the wake of it. She turns back to look at Kate, hip propped against the counter. "You want to do something?"

"Sure. What kind of something?"

Bea shrugs, a spark of childlike mischief alight at the corners of her eyes. So much like her father. "Whatever, don't mind. Finish your juice, Mom, and we'll find something."

Kate lifts her hand to wrap around the glass, not even surprised anymore to find her bones clattering like escape, a battle just to make them stick.

She hears the hitch of concern in her daughter's breathing, glances up to see Beatrice striding towards her. "Mom, you're shaking. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." Kate lifts the glass, draws in a deep breath like fortification to have it make it up to her mouth.

Bea sets her hand at Kate's shoulder, her hip nudging at her mother's waist. "Clearly not. How long has this been happening, Momma?"

"A while." Kate sets the glass back down at the counter and grounds herself, clutching at Bea's fingers. "I already went to the doctor."

"You did? Are you okay?" Beatrice grits out, something like desolation lacing her words.

Kate manages a smile, drawing her daughter into a one-armed hug. "Dad made me. It's fine, my sweet girl. Just stress and fatigue, the doctor said. Just me being old."

"You're not old." Bea murmurs, burying her face against Kate's hair. She cups the back of her mother's head, suddenly decisive. "You said stress?"

"Mm, yeah. With work and everything." Kate says, nudging Bea back to get a look at her face. Her daughter manages something that might be smile, but smacks more of panic.

This was the part that worried her most. Having a baby at thirty eight means she's going to get old right as Bea's trying to find her place in the world. And Castle's older still, will be sixty this year.

It's terrifying, for all three of them.

"Okay. Well Mom, here's an idea. Let's de-stress, before Dad and Jack get home." Bea grins, really meaning it now.

"That sounds great, baby." Kate takes her daughter's hand, fingers cool and fresh like water. She stands up from her stool, letting Beanie lead her over to the couch. "You don't. . .mind that I'm older than your friends' moms, do you?"

"Course not. You're wiser than them too. And kinder, and more fun. Just, Mom?" Bea falters in the middle of the living room, turning over her shoulder to glance at Kate. The corner of her mouth arcs up even as her brows are tipping down, threads of concern at her forehead.

"Don't die, okay?"

"I'll try."

* * *

**A/N: Thank you my lovely Chloe for the idea. Also, we are two thirds done with this you guys. I'm thinking about a spin-off exploring a little more of Jack and Alba's story. Yay or nay?**


	21. sunset

**sunset**

* * *

Castle lifts the baby from Kate's chest and watches her stir. Not fully conscious, just wading through the quicksand of her exhaustion to get to him. He curls an arm underneath their son and leans down, dusting a kiss at his wife's temple.

Her lashes drift up like shadows, her eyes wheeling for a moment before she latches on to him. "S' early."

"I know." Rick murmurs back, a palm firm at her shoulder to halt her progress before she's even managed to push back the sheets. "Doesn't matter."

"Gotta-"

"He's fine." The bed dips under him as he sits, Kate rolling back towards his weight at her hip. "Look."

She peels her eyes open again, a soft and entirely automatic smile for the sleeping warmth of their boy as her fingers flutter over the curve of his cheek. "He's out?"

"Yes. And if he wakes, I got it. Just sleep. You need it."

He stands again, stills at the feel of her slender fingers circling his wrist. "Wake me if he needs me."

"He always needs you. We both do." Castle grits out, carding a hand through the spill of her curls against the pillow. She turns her head into his touch, languid and entirely not here.

Unspooling, her thoughts trip right out of her mouth. Crumbling around the barrier of her teeth, but coherent nonetheless. "Sap. If he needs feeding. . ."

"Yes, Kate. If he's hungry I'll wake you. But otherwise, get some sleep."

She's already gone, knees drawing up to press against her stomach and her hand falling limp to the sheets. Castle kisses her cheek again, their son's palm splayed against his chest. "Love you."

Maybe his words can thread through to her unconscious, paint her dreams with the terrifying depth of all she is to him.

In the living room, Rick stands at the window and cradles Jack to his chest, cupping the curve of his skull in his palm. So much more hair than Alexis had at this age. Thicker too, and dark like a wash of ink.

The city writhes in the street below, a frost casing with the day that makes everything sharper. Makes the inside, here with his son, all the more amniotic. Reams of lights hang in the windows opposite, fighting to splash their color over their own small patch of Manhattan as the winter sun sinks below the skyline.

Christmas, in a little more than a week, and they haven't even decorated yet. Alexis is spending winter break with her boyfriend's family, his mother busy with her latest flame.

And Kate is wiped out. Jack's not what he'd call a difficult baby, but even so Kate is exhausted. She gets up in the night to check that he's still breathing, spends hours gazing into his cot and tries to hide it from Castle.

Only, Rick hears her murmuring to their boy over the baby monitor.

He would do it, decorate and cook for her and take their son out to see the lights and the people and meet Santa Claus, but she keeps telling him no. Keeps saying that Jack, at four months old, is not going to remember any of it.

Okay, so she's right. But that doesn't mean the smile that cracks wide over their boy's face whenever he sees the dancing reindeer toy Castle bought him is not entirely worth it.

Yesterday, he cornered her fresh out of the shower while Jackson was sleeping and set his hands at her waist, his mouth dipping down to meet hers. And then he asked why she doesn't want to do Christmas.

She said she does. Quietly, with him and their son. No extravagance, no noise. Just the peaceful murmur of their little family. And the look on her face gutted him, made him clutch harder at her and promise everything.

A shard of winter sunlight glides through the window, landing on Jack's face so he stirs. His eyes flutter open, more and more of the forest palette Castle sees in his wife leeching into the blue every day.

He grins down at his son, earns himself a smile in return. Jack's mouth opens, his head spinning around to see out of the window, and Rick has to set his palm more firmly at his son's skull to keep him upright.

Rick shifts to give Jack a clear view right down the canyon of city blocks to the water, pearlescent as the sun dips into it. The shimmery lick of pale light over the frosted street feels other-worldly, a blanched version of their city.

Jack grins wider as Castle bounces with him, feeling the tug of awareness in his knee. Doesn't matter. It will always be worth it to make his son happy. He nudges his nose against his son's cheek, laughing into the creases of the baby's neck and earning himself a bubble of laughter.

"Hi buddy. You like Christmas, huh?"

Their son is, as always, completely enthralled at the sound of his father's voice. Kate laughs about it, the way Jack arches up from the cradle of her arms to get a look at his daddy every time Rick opens his mouth.

"Yeah, me too. We just gotta persuade your mommy now." Castle grins, peppering kisses to his son's cheeks. That delicious laughter floods up out of him, his eyes wide and ever-observant.

He settles himself in the armchair, Jack cushioned on his thighs and facing out, watching the trace of shadows down the block. Rick sets his mouth at his little boy's crown, smells the newness of him that still clings.

And underneath, layers of sweet musk. Jack fell asleep on Kate's chest, and now he smells like his momma.

"Don't worry, my man. Your mom is so much fun. She's tired right now, but you just wait. She pulls the best pranks. I'm sure the two of you will be teaming up on me in no time."

And he can't wait for that day.

* * *

**A/N: This one's for _Ecosler24_ and _saved240307_, who wanted to see a moment between Castle and his son. I hope it lives up to what you wanted. Also, fair warning. Tomorrow I'm revisiting the Alzheimer's storyline. I understand if some of you will need to skip that one. **


	22. mad

**mad**

* * *

Kate holds the flannel underneath the cold tap, head bowed so she doesn't have to meet the eyes of the woman in the mirror. The desolation is already thick in her heart; she doesn't need to witness how it paints her face as well.

In their bedroom, Castle is finally still. For such a long time, his body has been wracked by vivid nightmares, not even understanding the most basic pieces of who he is. It leaves him washed up, thrashing as he drowns on dry land.

He stirs a little when she sets the cloth at his forehead, her hip meeting his with the sheets like quarantine between them. And oh, thank God-

When his eyes open, she sees the hard edge of lucidity there. Even with the fever, the endless, aching cough, there have been small moments of respite. Clusters of minutes where he knows her, knows he is loved.

The last time was in the hospital. Broken, shattered edges of words given to her around his oxygen mask. He told her he's done. He doesn't want to fight anymore, not when he spends his days hopelessly lost inside his own psyche.

He asked her to bring him home to die, and she said okay.

Everyone said okay.

Bea sobbed against her mother's shoulder, hands curled in Kate's shirt the way she hasn't done since she was a teenager, and Jack disappeared on them all for a few hours. But they all knew. It's time to let him go.

"Where are they?" Castle breathes out, his lungs working so hard for the exchange of every precious oxygen molecule they can hardly even support his words.

And that crushes her maybe more than all the rest of it. She doesn't get to have his words anymore.

"They're in the living room. I didn't know if you would. . ." Kate trails off, thoughts like dust in her mouth.

His eyes drift closed again, the crease of pain to his brow she's seen even in his sleep for a week now. A foothold by which he clings to life.

"I want them here. I want to say goodbye while I know who they are." Rick grits out, his hand coming up to clutch at hers. His skin is soft, fragile like paper now. Thinned with wear, his edges smoothed with the constant touch and quiet devotion of Kate's own worship of him.

She leans in and dusts a crumbling, grief-bitter kiss to his temple. "Okay. I'll get them."

"I didn't think that I'd be able to tell." He murmurs, a wheezing breath scattering punctuation all through it.

Kate circles her thumb over the canvas of his palm, tracing his lifeline and never quite letting herself reach the end of it. "Tell what?"

"When it would be time."

Oh, God. Please no.

"You listen to me, Richard Castle. Don't you dare give up. I'll go get our kids, but you have to promise me to keep fighting."

She doesn't even give him a chance to answer, can't bear it if he disagrees. Instead she moves to the doorway, all three of their kids poised and waiting. Kate curls two fingers in beckoning, tilting her head and stepping back to let them crush through the door.

Bea kneels down at her father's bedside, his hand ensconced in both of hers. Alexis sinks to the mattress and Jack stands at her back, a palm settled at his older sister's shoulder.

Kate comes around the other side, setting a knee at the mattress and drawing her other leg up too, shifting towards him. The pillows are already arranged against the headboard. Sleep tugged him down, but Kate's here to drag him back up.

Once he's comfortable, she curls at his side with her head pillowed at his shoulder and listens to the quiet murmur of their son's voice.

Jack coaxes memories up from his sisters, Alexis contributing things that Kate knows the younger two have never even heard before. Castle's chest lifts in a halting laugh every so often, his arm hooked around Kate's knee.

And in the end, it's quiet. His eyes close with a finality that makes something twist hard in Kate's chest, a knot that crawls and tangles and draws in every breath for itself. She feels his awareness come undone, the leak of his body across the sheets.

They warned her that this would happen. That he'd slide into unconsciousness as easily as diving in and he'd never come back to her.

He's never coming back.

Kate lifts a hand to her mouth to cage in the wretched sob that rots low in her throat, the too-sweet wrongness of death lodged there.

The girls press a last kiss to their father's cheek, one at a time, and then Alexis leads Bea away. And Jack draws his fingers together, presses them carefully to the pinch of his father's fingertips.

Feeding the birds, one last time.

When the kids are gone, Kate curls up at her husband's side. His hand is still caught at the crease of her knee, even slack with abandonment as he is.

It all rolls through her in tumultuous waves of cell memory. The first blessed touch of their mouths, the second, their night in his sheets with her hair damp and sticking to both of them. Grass stains at his knees and the sharp cut of his suit at the end of the aisle.

Their son in his arms, their daughter. All four of them in the bathtub, skinship and bubbles. His body a cove that bore the crash of her over and over when she lost her father. The fire of his love for all of them, all their family. Fractured shards of their life together flooding in, almost comfort.

Kate rests her mouth at the thud of his pulse at his neck, this man she loves beyond time and reason and sanity, and it beats against her lips in quiet bursts of life.

And then, it doesn't.

* * *

**A/N: I wasn't going to do this. I really wasn't. But I wanted to offer a slice of comfort. He knew how loved he is. I hope that can be enough.**


	23. thousand

**thousand**

* * *

Today's gonna be a good day. He can feel it.

Three years ago, when the kids were six and eight. Castle went on a book tour. And to pass the lonely hours in between signings and interviews, to ease the chasm that opened in his heart when he said goodbye to his wife and children, he documented.

Wandering the city by himself, taking note of all the different nuances of every culture he was thrust into. And in Japan, he found the Children's Peace Monument.

Decorated with thousands upon thousands of origami cranes, sent from all over the world in accordance with the Japanese tradition that anyone who folds a thousand paper cranes may have one wish granted.

Senbazuru, the flocks of fragile paper birds are called, and Rick took photograph after photograph to bring home and share with his family.

Jack had huffed a sigh at him, tugged on his arm and said something about the museum. But his baby girl had been totally fascinated. Castle had researched online, learned for himself how to make them and spent the afternoon teaching Bea.

Together or apart, they've folded one every day since.

It feels a little stupid to be awake so early, excitement winding lazy but sure through his veins. Kate lies next to him, still tumbling through a dreamscape he often yearns to be part of. He lifts up, supporting his weight on his elbow to gaze down at her.

His gorgeous, lovely wife. Her jaw is slack, mouth parted and breath humming on a sigh. Rick cradles her cheek in his palm, leaning in to dust a scattering of kisses to her forehead.

A risk. It often wakes her. Even just the shift of his weight in their sheets can sometimes be enough. But she's out now, the line of her body unmoving and her hair like spilled ink at the pillow.

The grin arcs wide over his face and he lets it bloom, full up and aching with forever love. In the distance, he hears the soft thump of determined footsteps coming down the stairs and padding through the living room, and then their bedroom door nudges open just a little.

A shard of their daughter's face appears in the gap, her hair sleep-tossed and falling all over. Castle lifts the sheets on his side and tips his head, reeling her in.

Bea climbs in next to him, the soft warmth of her body curling up at his side and her nose nudging at the papery skin of his neck. "Mommy is still sleeping?"

"Yeah. Shh." He murmurs into her cheek, the rustling of his breath drawing these quiet, bubbling giggles up from her. She stretches her legs down so her toes rake over the tops of his feet, grinning.

"Daddy. It's wish day."

Castle grins in the textured darkness, scooping their girl into his arms and sitting up. She curls herself into the folded hollow of his legs, a foot kicking out dangerously close to Kate's form.

"I know baby. How about we get up, huh? Don't want to wake Mom with our excitement."

Her arms lace around his neck, skinny and delicate, and her legs wrap at his waist too. She does this, on their early mornings or late nights. Years falling off her like shed leaves until she's limp as a newborn, clinging to him or to Kate.

In the living room, the darkness pushes up against the windows, moonlight spilling across the hardwood. He sets his daughter down and watches her move to the window, her toes lapping in the pooling light until he flicks the lamp on.

"Are we gonna do it now, Beanie Ella?" He offers, moving to stand next to her and watch the rushing current of their city below.

His little girl shifts closer, setting her head against his bicep and chewing on her lip. She's started with that just recently, and it makes his knees turn liquid every time. So much like her mother, more graceful and smart and funny every day.

"Can we? Mom won't be upset?"

Rick steps away, disappearing for a moment inside his study to find the paper he bought specially for this. Well, Bea chose it actually. They'd been ambling through Chinatown and she'd tugged at his hand, told him she'd seen the paper to hold their wishes.

He hands her the pre-cut square, settling at the arm of the couch. "This is our thing. Like Mom and Jack with that art museum they love so much. They won't mind."

"Kay." She nods, tongue already poking out between her teeth as she works to get the folds exactly right. Even after so many, each one receives the same decisive care as the first.

He finishes up before his daughter does, watches her hold her breath as she makes the last fold and flips the tiny creature over, smoothing a finger over the elegant slope of the neck.

"You ready to wish?" Castle grins, pushing at her shin with his toes where she sits opposite.

Bea glances up at him, mouth parted and a crease of concern at her forehead. "I don't know if I am."

He sets his own crane down at the side table and moves to envelop his daughter, drawing her in to the cove of his arms. "It's been quite the project, huh? But hey, we can find another one. Maybe something all four of us can do together."

She nods, sets her forehead at his chest for a moment and then she steps back, her crane cradled in the cup of her palms and her eyes closed.

He won't ask her what she wishes for. Maybe she'll tell her mother later when they make breakfast together, maybe not. Doesn't really matter.

What matters is that his wish come true. That his children grow up to have their own lives full and rich and beautiful with the same moments of perfect, blissful happiness as this right here is to him.

* * *

**A/N: For Aisling. I don't need wishes when I have you. And for Shannon. Ceathrad làithean, luaidh.**

**Also, for all of you who were touched by the last chapter. I hope this can make it easier. **


	24. outside

**outside**

* * *

The trees reach down to dust over her shoulders, gentle fingers to nudge her forward. Grass brushes feather-light at her ankles and she sucks in a breath that tastes like nightfall, stepping closer.

And his mouth descends to hers.

* * *

Bea nudges open the front door with her hip, bag in one hand and phone clutched in the other.

Stupid, so stupid, but she hasn't stopped texting him since they were separated at her tube stop. She almost toppled right into the gutter, swept away in the flow of foot traffic even as her mind was right back there with him.

On the couch, her mother raises an eyebrow and shoots a glance at Papa's watch - a little too thick around her slender wrist - but says nothing. Bea cut it close, she knows that.

But she made it on time. It's all good. "Hey Mom."

"Hi baby. You have fun?"

Blood floods her cheeks, pounding hard in her neck and her wrists and her damn toes. She feels pink all over, flushed with the bathing warmth of the night and dusk enveloping her slender frame. "Yeah."

Her mother lifts an arm, smiling softly. Totally open. She always is when it comes to Bea. Dad tells stories about how hard he fought to get past Mom's walls, but Bea has never been able to reconcile that woman with her mother.

"Come tell me all about it."

She flops down at the couch, bringing her knees up to lay against her mother's thigh. Mom's arm curls around her shoulders, drawing her in close, and Bea's eyes flutter closed to savour the spring-fresh musk that floods up out of her.

It's a little awkward, discussing these things with Mom. But she needs the reassurance, the comfort, and only her mother can really do that for her. "He kissed me."

A smile blooms against her crown, but Mom stays carefully quiet. No judgement, not ever. Now she's older, Bea can see that a lot of it is guilt. Her mother isn't really home a lot, but when she is. . .

Neither Bea nor Jack could ask for more from her.

"And I did like it, Mom. I just don't know what it means. I don't know if it was just a onetime thing."

Her mother's hair cards gently through the toss and churn of Bea's curls, coming around to smooth a thumb underneath her eye. "Do you want it to be more than a onetime thing?"

"I don't know. I think. . .yeah? He's really funny, and sweet. It was just easy with him, I guess. I felt comfortable."

"That's good. A guy that makes you laugh is a good thing." Her mom nods, turning to draw her legs up and sit facing her daughter, knees almost visible through her leggings.

Bea raises an eyebrow, pursing her lips at her mother and letting out a soft breath of amusement. "Dad makes you laugh?"

"Dad makes everyone laugh. And yeah, that includes me. But listen, Little Bean. Kissing someone doesn't necessarily mean that the two of you are then in a relationship."

Both hands come up to cover Bea's face, gazing over the cragged rise of her fingertips at her mother. "I know that, Mom. Come on. This isn't the first grade."

"I know baby. But it also doesn't mean that he doesn't feel anything for you. I mean, obviously he does, right?" Her mother grins, a hint of teasing in the lift of her words.

"What do I do?"

Her mother steeples her fingers, leaning back against the arm of the couch to regard her carefully. "I'm going to be a little hypocritical now, but I think you need to tell him what you feel."

"How's that hypocritical?"

"The first time I kissed your father was about a year and a half before we even got into a relationship." Mom says, one shoulder lifting so her shirt slips down, her collarbone cresting up creamy and fragile-looking.

Bea buries her face deeper into her hands a moment and then drops them, shoving at her mother's knee. "Mom, come on. Don't be gross."

"I'm not trying to be gross, sweetheart. I just think that maybe if I'd pulled your dad aside after he kissed me and told him what I wanted, we could have saved ourselves a lot of hurt."

Huh. Okay. She doesn't know everything about her parents' story, doesn't really want to. It's theirs and it's sacred and that's okay. She does know that it took her mother getting shot and her father standing by her for a whole year afterwards while she healed to reassure them both that it was worth it.

It is worth it.

"But what if he doesn't want the same thing as me?" Bea murmurs, her whole body suddenly brittle like collateral damage, that one touch of his mouth to hers unlacing her entirely.

Her mother tugs her in, resting her mouth at Bea's temple and humming softly. "Well, you have to decide whether it would be worth risking your friendship. You're so young, Beanie."

"That doesn't mean it can't last." She grits out, already fiercely defensive of this newly blossoming thing. It makes her feel like summer bubbling up inside, like she wants to walk barefoot and swim and lie on her back in the too-long grass.

"That's not what I'm saying. You two have been friends for such a long time, I think you'd be great. I really do. But is it worth risking your friendship?"

Bea catches her lip between her teeth, chews at the permanent patch of raw skin there. "I think so. But I'm scared, Mom."

"Oh baby, I know." Her mother reels her closer, holding her tight so she can let the fear leak right out of here.

"What do I do?"

Mom's hand cards through her hair again, slender fingers gentle and reverent. "I can't tell you. But my advice, Little Bean? Don't wait until it's too late to say _I love you_."

* * *

**A/N: Tons of you mentioned in your reviews of last chapter that you're not looking forward to this being over. And honestly, neither am I. If there's a specific chapter that you'd really like to see expanded, let me know and I'll do my best. I've fallen hopelessly in love with this universe.**


	25. winter

**winter**

* * *

"I love winter with you."

Castle grins, shifting his fingers and cracking hers open a little wider, cold air rushing in to fill up the empty space. They wind through the outdoor market; the reams of tiny lights that hang above the stalls throw deep shadow onto his face, swathes of it licking underneath his cheekbones.

It's different, seeing it all with him. The soft catch of his breath in awe-filled surprise at the most beautiful stalls, the ones that tug him to a stop.

It feels richer, all of it more somehow with him darting in to kiss her cheek, the cold edge of his nose clashing with the hard angles of her face. "You do?"

"Yeah. I love the markets, the lights, the festivity. But it's not quite the same when you don't have someone to share in it all with."

And she can't help but smile at that, tugging him close and meeting his mouth with her own so the foot traffic is forced into divergence around the stumbling block of their bodies. It's light, the again and again touch of their lips without ever delving deeper.

It's too cold to be still for long so she lets him break away with a last kiss to the tender stretch of her neck, right on the equator of scarf and bare skin. It feels strange, the heat of him diffusing right in to the cold places.

"It's magical." She offers, catches a shard of his grin from the corner of her eye. She knows that in it he hears all she doesn't say. How he gives her that magic back, how very grateful she is to him.

A part of her wants to take her gloves off, pull his off too so their bare skins can meet. She wants the crash of his lifelines at hers, the constant heat of him warming her where she's thin and exposed.

"Come to the park?"

There's no surprise. Not anymore. Maybe early on she'd have felt that insistent nudge of confusion, wanted to have all the evidence before she decided. But it's him, and it's their third Christmas, and sometimes he just does things.

Things that don't make any sense. And then they do, and he's crafting perfect memories for her, lacing them all together in strings of words and feelings and sounds and bliss.

"Okay."

Their walk is quiet, both of them content to watch the drip and weave of people in the streets and bask in the insistent warmth of the other. And then he's guiding her over to a fountain, the square quiet in the darkness.

Night laps at the edges, but here seated next to the water feature she can see every hollow and plane of his face splashed with city light. Underneath, he's slicked in moonlight that makes him seem like marble.

Beautiful, but a little cold. Kate leans in to kiss him, allowing herself all the fervent exploration she wouldn't give in to earlier. And he's giving it right back, his hand coming up to cradle her cheek. The coarse scratch of his glove at gossamer skin makes her grit out a sigh, leaning in to him.

When he breaks away it's to beam at her, moonlight trapped in his teeth. So much of the little boy in him, the festive season drawing it up. He used to hide it.

Last year, they were apart. He was on his book tour, spent Christmas day in a hotel room in Edinburgh. And when she spoke to him on the phone, it was stilted and a little awkward. Much like all their over conversations over those two months.

And then he came back, she moved in to the loft, he proposed. The ring makes a ridge underneath her glove now and she smoothes her thumb over it, something protective stirring within her.

"It's cold to just sit."

"I know." He shrugs, moving closer to draw her into his arms and set his chin at the crown of her head. "But the bustle was getting to me."

That has a laugh escaping her, little more than a huff of air that turns white in front of them and curls in wisps. "You love people. And noise."

"Yeah, but I love you more."

"Sap." She shoots right back, but she's turning a smile in to his cheek and sliding her fingers to hook at his pocket.

He laughs, nuzzling into her hair. It's growing out now, the soft curls he loves to tease with his fingers falling past her shoulders. "I'm not sorry."

"Didn't think so." She grins, standing up and taking both of his hands to tug him up too, drawing his arms around her waist.

His hips nudge against hers, their foreheads meeting to stave off the chill. She likes the crisp bite of it in her lungs, fresh and clean. But more, she likes how Castle is constantly heat-seeking, looking to her as a place of warmth against which to bury himself.

"Kate? Thanks."

"For what?" She hums out, kissing him in the quiet tenderness of the night. His hands slip inside her coat, lines of heat searing the skin at her spine even through her sweater.

"Being here. Letting me share things with you." He seems desolate about it, and that won't do at all.

Kate lets her face break open on a smile, nudging it into the soft skin underneath his jaw and darting her tongue out to taste, raking her teeth over the shadowed stubble there. He groans and she feels the shockwave of it ripple through him, deliciously hers.

"You don't have to thank me. I'm in this."

He smiles too, then, stepping back and reclaiming her hand. "I know. You're wearing my ring."

"Yeah. Gonna be your wife, right? Share everything."

He raises an eyebrow at her, eyes and mouth in a confluence of joy so he's creasing up, parentheses and canyons carved into his skin.

"Yeah. Gonna be my wife."


	26. diamond

**diamond**

* * *

Bea wakes early, groggy and half not here as she tips out from underneath the sheets. Her toes curl against the hardwood, cracking loud enough that she winces. The door to her brother's room is ajar and she peers inside, sees him spread-eagled on the mattress with Alba curled up next to him.

Downstairs, she flicks the switch on the coffee pot to start it up and shifts her weight from foot to foot, trying to leach some warmth from somewhere. The refrigerator hums at her, quiet and comforting, and she sinks onto a barstool.

She folds her arms and sets them at the countertop, her skin milky where it splashes over the granite. Some sunshine would do her good, but she's never really been one for lounging on the beach.

Adventure calls, and she follows.

Footsteps from across the living room make her start, eyes flying to the wall clock. Ugh, barely six thirty. Why is she up?

Why is someone else up?

Actually, it makes sense. Mom wakes early, always has. Bea remembers in high school, getting up at four to study for finals and some days she'd find her mother curled in the corner of the couch with a book.

Only, it's not Mom. Her father appears from his study, carding a hand through the fall of his bangs and scrubbing at his eyes. Salt and pepper hair, now, and the scattering of stubble at his jaw looks like fresh snow.

"Morning, Beanie." He murmurs, coming over to press a kiss at the stop of her head and continuing on in his pilgrimage, finding his holy grail in front of the coffee pot.

She watches him watching the steady drip of caffeine into the glass container a moment and then she stands, allows herself to seek out his embrace. His arms draw her in close and she buries her nose at the musk of his scent, still the same as when she was just a child.

"Good morning, Dad. Mom still sleeping?"

He huffs something that might be laughter against her temple, letting her go to pour coffee for them both, a third cup poised and ready next to theirs. "Taking a shower. She woke me."

"She did?" Bea hums, lacing her fingers around her mug and lifting it to rest at her sternum, liquid heat flooding in to ease the thrumming tension there.

"Accidentally, yeah. I got cold."

She can't help but laugh at that, shaking her head at him. Her coffee is black and a little bitter but it slips easily down her throat, a jolt of awareness just at the taste. "So Dad. Big day."

"You excited?"

Bea moves to sit back at the counter, setting her feet on top of her father's as he follows her. He smirks, raising an eyebrow as he waits on her answer. "For them, yeah."

"Not. . .jealous?" He offers, sipping at his coffee and feigning nonchalance.

Heat rushes in at her cheeks, a tide of embarrassment that threatens to tug her right back upstairs, away from him and uncomfortable questions. "No. Not jealous. I'm _fine_, Dad."

"I know you are. I just want you to be as happy as Jack is. As your mother and I."

Oh jeez. Okay.

She hasn't been in a serious relationship for a while. But she's young. There's plenty of time. "When you and Mom got together you were sixteen years older than I am. Just give me some time?"

"I'm not trying to rush you, Beanie Baby. I just want to see you be happy."

Her mother appears from the bedroom to save her, and she has never been so grateful.

* * *

Kate laces her fingers through her husband's and watches her son do the same with Alba just in front of them. Bea is behind with Kit, the dog bounding at her ankles and running to catch the ball she throws.

Her family all together, and Alexis is coming for dinner tonight with Eli and their children.

Everyone knows. Except for Alba, of course. But when Jack went to find the ring, Kate and Beanie went with him. And Castle helped him with the planning, let him talk it out. It seems to have helped anchor him to the present.

Things are still not great, but ever since Jack came home it's been better. Kate nudges closer to Rick, setting her cheek at his shoulder and offering a smile when he turns to look at her. "Okay?"

"Yeah. I hope she says yes." She laughs, straightening up and enjoying the lick of sunshine at her bare shoulders.

She knows that Castle feels guilty. Five years since Jack told him in their kitchen that he wants to marry Alba, and yet he had seemed content with what they had. But since her husband has gotten sick, she knows their son has been thinking about the time he might be wasting.

So later today, Kate and Castle will take Bea to get ice cream for everyone. And stretched out on the picnic blanket next to her, their son will ask the woman he loves to marry him.

He's got the ring in his pocket. Her mother's ring. She wants it to be passed down, see the love it deserves once more.

And Alba doesn't really have any family, seems to be quietly estranged from them. Kate wants her to know that she is welcome in theirs, that she belongs.

She sat with Bea and talked it out, made sure her daughter didn't mind. And she doesn't. She's brimming with joy for her brother and for Alba.

"She'll say yes, Mom. Come on." Bea laughs, hooking her arm through Kate's free one and sighing as the dog tries to fit himself between their calves. "Kit, go fetch. Good boy."

Kate watches the ball arc in front of them a moment, the golden blur of the daft dog, and then she turns to glance at her baby girl.

"I know she will. She loves him."

* * *

**A/N: If you haven't already, go wish closingdoors (ff) / extraordinarySK (twitter) / instanakaticsboobs (tumblr) a fantastic birthday.**


	27. letters

**letters**

* * *

Kate slides her key into the lock and pauses, sucking in a breath as if that can clear the tsunami of despair that wrecks her. Over and over all day, her body tugged back and forth. Sometimes washed up, a moment that feels more exhaustion than respite. And sometimes right in it.

Rough case.

It's done now, though. The sick son of a bitch is going away for a long, long time. Beckett managed to get justice for all those parents, even if she can't ever bring their children back.

Tonight, she just wants to curl on the couch with her own kids. The warmth of her family around her has always been a balm and even just the thought of them has a smile spreading, slow and honeyed. She nudges the door open with her hip and locks it behind her, turning back just in time to catch her son.

Jack barrels into her knees and grins up at her, stretching his arms up until she lifts him. He loves his daddy, of course, but if Kate's in the room he'll want her instead. Her husband has his hands full anyway, tucked into the corner of the couch with Bea drowsy and limp where she's pillowed against his chest.

Even from across the room he must see the hard edge of tension in her, because he's wrapping both arms around their girl and standing up. His mouth descends hot and right and then Jack's making a dramatic noise of disgust right at her ear and Castle's lips hum on a laugh against hers and she finally can grin for real.

"You okay?"

Kate reaches out to cup Bea's cheek, smoothing her thumb just underneath her daughter's eye. Their girl is a little clammy, sleep-sweat and some of the day's excitement clinging. "We got him."

"Oh, good." Castle grins, manoeuvring the sleepy little girl to get an arm free and wrap it around Kate's shoulders, smacking a kiss to her temple. "Let me put Beanie to bed and I'll reheat dinner."

"Can I?"

Rick falters a moment and then he's opening on a smile and passing their daughter over, taking Jack instead. "Hey my man, how about we reheat dinner for Momma and then you can show her what you did today?"

"Oh, Mommy, it's _so good_." Her son nods, so fervent that she can't help but laugh.

She leans in to kiss his cheek, resting a moment to bask in that little-boy smell. "Okay buddy. Let me put your sister to bed and then you can show me."

Jack offers her a shy smile, turning to press his face against his father's neck, and Kate laughs again. Castle's eyes are tender on hers and she nods, her mouth arcing up just a little. She's really okay.

On the stairs, her daughter's mouth opens at her collarbone, the sudden pooling warmth all the comfort that she needs. Kate cradles the curve of Bea's skull and smoothes her fingers through the spill of her curls.

Bea's room is already dark; Castle must have pulled the curtains earlier in the evening. Kate finds the bed and kneels, easing her baby girl to the mattress and peeling back the covers. She tucks her daughter in tight and takes a moment to watch her fall further into sleep, her jaw slack with it.

"I love you, Little Bean. I won't ever let anyone hurt you."

A stupid promise, one she knows better than anyone that she can't possibly keep. But it's a Castle sort of promise, the kind of thing he offers their children after nightmares and when they're sick. And she can't help but try to be for them what he is. For the kids and for her.

Hope. He's hope.

And he's downstairs.

* * *

In the kitchen, Kate rounds the counter and slides up behind him. Her arms come up to wrap at his waist and she sets her forehead to his spine, letting him hold her up. Just for a moment, and then she can step back and sit at the counter and lift her son to sit at her lap.

"What do you have there, buddy?"

Jack beams, thrusting the sheet of paper at her and setting his palms at his cheeks in mock embarrassment. "We did drawing _and_ words today, Mommy."

Both the kids go to preschool twice a week. Castle uses one of those days to write, go to meetings or do publicity. And the other he spends at the precinct, back in his chair where he belongs.

"Wow, that's so cool. Can I look?" She grins, nudging her nose against her son's. He nods, and Kate unfolds the paper.

There's the same awkward, out-of-proportion figures she's seen in their boy's drawings many times before. A self-portrait, accompanied by Kate herself and Castle and Alexis and Beanie. Only this time, each of them carries a label.

Spidery, too-big letters, and half of them are backward. But she can read it. She can make out all of their names. A hard knot of nostalgia tangles itself in her throat and Kate swallows hard, disguising it with her face pressed to Jack's hair.

They're both growing up so fast. And she's missing so much of it.

"Jack," Castle says, setting the plate of pasta sauce in front of her and giving an encouraging smile to their son. "Did you show Mommy the other picture you drew?"

Sheepish, Jackson passes her another piece of paper. This one is more crowded, the usual figures joined by Papa and Gram. He's even used the orange crayon on this one to mark out his older sister and his grandmother.

And in the sky, hovering above them all with enormous wings spanning half the page and labelled with more care than any of the others-

"Who's that, bud?" Castle prompts, his hand falling to curl around Kate's. Their son beams, so much pride in it that Kate can grin back through the crush of tears.

"Grandma."


	28. promise

**promise**

* * *

Beckett's phone clatters against her desk, startling her so her pen breaks free from the careful restraint of her handwriting and scrawls out across the page.

Damn it. Now she'll have to start again. Gates is picky about their paperwork being neat. She flicks her gaze to the caller ID and huffs, swiping her thumb across the screen to unlock it as she stands.

"Beckett."

"Hi, Mrs Castle." Her husband says back, his voice rich and delicious where his words have curved around his arcing smile.

Kate rolls her eyes and nudges the break room door open with her hip, sinking down to the couch and drawing her knees up. Silly man.

But she misses him. Nonsensical theories and incessant touching of things he should not be touching included. "What's up?"

"Jack's pitching a fit because we're out of milk and he wanted cereal. I'd go get some but that would mean rounding them both up and finding hats and coats and then keeping track of them on the street. They're both sort of. . .feral, today."

She hears the stretch in his voice; the places where caring for their children leaves him thin and washed out. He loves them both so deeply, more than himself. But sometimes they can be a little too much.

All their mother's stubbornness, he likes to tease her. And she fires right back with snide remarks about how childish their father is, how they don't really stand a chance.

"I'm leaving in about an hour. I'll bring some. You need me to get anything else?"

Castle breathes out a sigh that curls around her, a thick and suffocating fog twining through the footholds of her ribcage. "Just you. Beanie has told me about a hundred times today that she much prefers her mommy to me. Apparently I suck."

Oh, no. Oh Rick.

It's just winter break, that's all. Both of the kids are excited for Christmas, impatient for the day itself to get here and getting swept away in all the festivity. It makes them giddy and difficult and poor Castle has to bear the brunt of it.

"You know she adores you, right?"

He laughs, so much warmth in it that a part of her yearns to walk out of the precinct right now and go home to him. "I know. It's just today's thing. But the milk would help, oh beautiful saviour of mine."

"Okay, can do. I'm gonna go, finish up the paperwork. And get home quicker." Kate murmurs, grinning into the splay of her fingers at her mouth.

"Right, yes. Bringing home the bacon. Love you."

There's a crash in the background, the high-pitched beginning of a cataclysmic meltdown, and Castle hangs up before she can reply. Before she gets to say that she loves him to.

* * *

She forgets the milk.

The boys cornered her right after she finished up on the phone and sucked her in to their case and she's already twenty minutes late. It doesn't even hit her until she's already through the front door. Far, far too late.

Upstairs, Kate can hear the hard grit to Castle's voice from outside the bathroom door. The whole of his careful control coming undone. She pushes it open to see her husband kneeling with his back to her, their children in the bath.

No bubbles, so they must have already pushed him pretty hard. As soon as they see her they're both climbing out and scrambling over the tile to reach her.

"Don't get Mom wet." Castle grunts, raising a hand to press his wrist to his forehead.

Jack's arms wrap around her waist, her button down turning translucent at the contact. "Mom, you're home. Now I can have cereal."

Crap.

"Finish up your bath, guys. Come on." Kate peels them both off of her and ushers them back towards the bathtub, settling a hand at her husband's shoulder and squeezing gently. "I got it from here."

"Thanks." He huffs, standing up and pressing a kiss to her mouth that isn't even really present at all. The exhaustion rolls off of him in waves and Kate takes a moment to cradles his cheek, kissing him harder.

"Sorry I'm late."

He manages a smile even as the lines at his forehead grow deeper, stepping back from her to lift Bea back in to the tub. "It's fine. Just tell me you got the milk."

"Yeah, about that." Kate bites at her lip, one side of her mouth curving up. She meets his eyes, and the storm there rips right through her.

"Damn it, Kate. Could you not have just done one thing for me?" He grits out, already turning his back on her.

She reaches out, setting two fingers at his wrist in placation. "I'm sorry. I got caught up at work and then I was in a hurry to come home and help."

"Well, you bringing the milk so our son can have the cereal I promised him hours ago would have been more helpful, don't you think?" He's getting close to shouting at her now, the kids wide-eyed and suddenly mute in the bathtub. Kate opens her mouth, finds she has no excuse to give and snaps it closed again.

"I'll go get some." He sighs, and she watches the catch of tension in him as he battles not to slam the door.

* * *

He comes home to find both the kids somehow, miraculously in bed and his wife nestled on the couch, staring blankly at the television.

Rick puts the groceries away and comes back for him, slipping his arms around her shoulders to bring her in against his chest. "I'm so sorry, Kate. It's just been a tough day."

"I know." She murmurs, pushing back to meet his eyes. "I'm sorry I can't be here to help."

She looks so desolate that he can't help but kiss her, soft and apologetic. "You're here now. You got them to bed."

"Even so. Let me make it up to you."

* * *

**A/N: With gratitude to _tastesofpurple_ on tumblr for the idea.**


	29. simple

**simple**

* * *

Kate rolls over onto her stomach and pillows her chin at Castle's sternum, dusting a kiss to the cleft of his chin. He peers down through the shadowy fringe of his lashes, cracking on the dawn of a grin.

"You sleep okay?"

It still gets her, the gritty cadence of his voice in the early hours. The dive and fall that curls quiet and sure in her gut. "Good. You?"

"Yeah. It's too quiet." He murmurs, a sleep-heavy palm coming up to settle between her shoulder blades. His thumb arcs out to circle over her top vertebrae. Even after all these years, he still touches her like he's paying tithe, kneeling at the font of her body.

She smiles up at him, bracing her hands at his sides to lift herself off of his chest, skimming his mouth on the way. He arches into it, catching his teeth in her lower lip a moment. "She wouldn't be up yet anyway. It's no different."

"I can sense she's not here."

Beckett rolls her eyes at him, sitting up in bed and letting the sheets pool around her waist. Her husband turns to set his mouth at her hipbone, the warmth of it startling even through her pajama pants. "You _know_ she's not here. That doesn't count as one of your Dad-powers."

"Either way, I miss her. Both of them." Castle shrugs, sitting up against the headboard and slipping his arm around her waist. He nudges his way underneath her shirt and the brush of bare skin at hers is like fall, the leaves of night shedding.

The soft touch of her mouth draws a smile from him, the same crinkled mischief she's seen on both of their children so many times over the years. "I know. But I got you through Alexis leaving for college; I'll get you through Beanie too."

"It's not the same. Beanie's your kid too. You miss her too."

"Okay." Kate cards a hand through his hair, the salt and pepper dash of it that tumbles in her gut. "So we get each other through, then."

Rick nods at that, coming up on his knees to kiss her again and then sliding out of bed entirely, hissing at the rolling chill of the hardwood as it hits his bare feet. She doesn't even bother to stifle her laughter, grinning wider when he turns to frown at her.

The first time she noticed just how deep the lines of wear unravelling from her eyes and mouth had gotten, it had stolen the mirth right out of her. And of course it was her husband that she'd been laughing at in the first place, the two of them reflected back in the bathroom mirror.

But Castle brushed his thumbs to the entrenchment of her life's happiness and drew it back out of her, kissing her softly. He told her that the older she got, the more beautiful she was to him as he saw the winding path of their life together marked out in her skin.

So it's okay. They're getting old, but it's okay.

She's sort of looking forward to a quiet retirement, lazy summers at the Hamptons house and walking Snicket at the beach.

Well, more like trying to get the poor old dog to even stand up, these days. That had been the hardest part for their daughter. Snicket has always been her dog, loyal beyond the norm to her. Leaving him behind, knowing there's a good chance she won't get to say goodbye. . .it had almost been too much.

"So, our first day to ourselves in twenty years. What does today look like?" Castle hovers in the doorway, the morning light spilling in from the living room. No one remembered to shut the blinds last night. Usually Bea does, since she goes to bed later than her parents.

It hits Kate hard, malignant and twisting in her gut, just how much reorganising they're going to need to do. Rebalancing their lives around not having the kids at home.

She pushes it back, climbing out of bed to join her husband and twine her arms at his waist. "I bet you can guess what I'd like to do with an empty house. An empty day."

Castle starts walking her backward, his thighs nudging at hers with every step. She has her hands underneath his shirt and sliding upwards already, pressing the grinning sentry row of her teeth to the papery skin at his neck.

He grunts, his hips canting carefully into hers. Even just that touch makes her blood rush, his pulse pounding hard in echo against her mouth.

"I don't know, we could read?" He says into the crown of her head, smirking.

Kate catches at the soft skin of his sides in retaliation, huffing a sigh at him and shaking her head. "Mm, we could watch TV."

He beams at her, their foreheads meeting so her lines of wear clash with his. "We could get something to eat."

"We could do that." Kate nods, stretching up onto tiptoe as her calves hit the edge of the mattress. She gets her mouth against his right as he tips her backward and ends up breathing the shock of her laughter into his mouth.

Castle arranges them against the sheets, nestling his body between Kate's thighs and cradling her cheeks in both palms. He takes a moment to really see her, none of the shyness of their first morning there anymore. Not for a long time.

He's seen every shard, every facet she has to give. And still he looks at her like she's fascinating and beautiful and forever. "What would you like to do, Mrs Castle?"

"I think we should make good use of the fact that no one can possibly overhear us, or walk in unannounced."

Rick nods above her, sliding a hand down to tug at her thigh, bringing her knee up to meet his hip. "And do what?"

"Get back to basics."

* * *

**A/N: Penultimate is a great word. But sometimes (now), it doesn't feel so good.**


	30. future

**future**

* * *

"You nervous?" Castle cradles his wife's hand in both of his, drawing the slender lines of her fingers up so he can dust his mouth to her knuckles in gratitude.

Kate shrugs, watching the sonographer as she takes the gel from the warmer and runs it over her abdomen. It's so utterly fascinating.

All of it, but mostly Kate. The soft thickening at her waist, the faint beginnings of a curve. It knocks all the breath right out of him every time he stops to think about it. She's carrying his baby.

They're going to have a baby.

"Mostly I just have to pee." His wife murmurs and the sonographer, Kelly, turns to give them both a soft smile.

She's sweet, petite and reassuring. And he knows that Kate needs it. She's been worrying a lot. Of course, as soon as they found out she was pregnant they had to tell the captain, and Kate is no longer allowed on takedowns.

She can still be in interrogation though, and at crime scenes. And that scares her, scares them both. If something happened to their baby because of her job, Kate would never forgive herself.

"Most women focus on that until I get the picture up, and then everything else seems to drop away when they see their baby." Kelly says, busying herself with the transducer.

It seems still so far away, nothing to solidify it. And after today, they'll have a picture to look at, a way to prove to themselves that this is really happening.

"We can't know the sex today though?"

Kelly laughs, setting the transducer at Kate's abdomen and rolling slightly. "No, too soon."

On the screen, he sees hazy black. No baby yet, but this is weird enough. Looking at his wife's insides. Her brows are furrowed and Castle shifts his chair closer, leaning in to press a soft kiss to her cheekbone.

And then suddenly. . .there he is. Or she, whatever. Their baby.

Blue-grey and squirming, the little peanut blob shifts. In profile now, they can make out the head, the tiny stumpy legs. Kelly showed them a life size model before, but even so Castle can't quite believe how tiny he is.

A person. Their baby. Right there on the screen.

Kate's breath hitches – Rick sees the catch and release of her chest in his peripheral vision - and when he looks at her she's biting back tears.

He sets his mouth to the thread of tension in her jaw, the hand not ensconced in hers coming up to cradle her cheek. "That's our baby. _Kate_."

"I told myself I wouldn't cry." She grits out, laughing as a tear breaks free of her careful control and dives down toward the cliff face of her jawline. Rick can't help but grin too, brushing at her tears with the circling sweep of his thumb.

"It's okay. Wait until he's born. First time I held Alexis I couldn't even see her I was tearing up so hard."

She grins at him and then she's turning back to the screen, watching the fluid shift of their baby. He can't even imagine how strange it must be for her to see, to know that there's a tiny person full of stories and quirks and desires inside of her.

Oh, he loves her. So much.

"I love you, Kate. Thank you for our baby."

His wife nods, clutching tighter at his hand so their palms kiss. Kelly is busy at the machine again, he hopes arranging for them to get a copy of the image. "You helped."

"But you're doing all the work." Castle says, suddenly grave. He wishes he could shoulder some of it. The nausea, and later the aching.

And watching her give birth, totally helpless and outside of the fortress of her body as she is wrecked over and over-

It's going to kill him.

"You said when_ he's_ born. You think it's a boy?" Kate raises an eyebrow at him, taking the tissue that Kelly offers to wipe the gel from her stomach.

He shrugs, tucking an escaped curl back behind her ear and leaning in to kiss her properly. "I have no idea. Do you want to find out, when we can?"

"I don't really mind. I'm not a huge fan of surprises, but I can wait. It's up to you."

And yeah, he knows she's trying to involve him the way Meredith never could bring herself to. It only makes him love her more, fierce and protective.

His whole future, everything his life is, all of it is Kate Beckett and their baby. "I'd like to know. Makes deciding on names easier, and decorating the nursery, and buying clothes."

"Oh jeez. Let's not talk about that for another few months, okay?"

"Right, yeah. Sorry ." Castle stands up from his chair and swallows back the urge to help Kate up too. She can do it on her own, he knows that. He just wants to keep her safe.

Her arms come up around his neck, her body crashing against the cove of his as she steps in close, and Rick sets his hands at her hips. Surprise floods through him at the unexpected hug, stuttering arrhythmia in his veins and in the wake of it, pathetic gratitude.

Everything she offers is more than he's ever dared let himself hope for.

Kelly hands them the scan pictures, a copy each, and shakes both of their hands. "I'm putting the due date at August 18th. Congratulations."

Castle returns her warm smile and winds his arm around Kate's waist, pressing his mouth to hers again on their way through the door. "You are amazing."

"Thanks." She smirks, nudging her elbow into his. In the elevator, she takes a moment to collect her thoughts. Rick can almost see them spooling into organisation across her face. "You know, I'm excited now."

"Oh, me too." He couldn't be happier. A future with Kate Beckett.

There's nothing else he needs.

* * *

**A/N: And that's a wrap! If you're interested, I just posted a list of the chapters in chronological order with the dates at which they occur over at my tumblr (I'm katiehoughton).**

**Thank you all so much for your wonderful, kind words. I can't possibly begin to explain how much it has meant to me. My sincerest thanks to all of you that have reviewed and kept me going with your lovely encouragement. You have made this an amazing experience, and I am so grateful. ****Thanks also to The Midnight Club. You guys rock my socks. Thanks for putting up with me.**

**Don't worry! I'm nowhere close to done with this universe. **


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